


Diary of Rae Whitman, Adventure Extraordinaire

by SoundoutiNmRN



Series: Defenders of Azeroth [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Politics, Am I forgeting anything?, Angst, Arachnophobia, Assimilation, Body Modification, Crack, Culture Shock, Diary/Journal, Dipictions of Violence, ENTER THE UA, Earth to Azeroth, Fluff, Fuck spiders, Future Vision, Guys she has a friend now :D, Hysteria, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Knows of Legion Expansion, Like, Major Arachnophobia, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Nasty shit that, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Nothing needs that many legs or eyes!!!, Oh wait, On Azeroth before Legion expansion, Politics, Rae and Velen BroTP 2k17, Rae is Pansexual btw, Rae is scared guys, Rae played Wow, Reality Crossover, Reelly slow to update, Regret, She doesn't see the future, She just wants ppl to be safe and happy, She tries to remember the future, Slow To Update, So much angst, Tags Will Update As Story Progresses, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Author doesn't know what the fuck is going on with her story, The Author is A Terrible Person, Through science or magic or divine intervention no one knows, Universe Alterations, Up until WoD, War, Warlords of Dreanor, Worgen, Worgen Curse, Yeah that was some pretty nasty shit Rae went through, You lose your damn mind, all the friends, also there will be other LGBT+ characters as well as straight characters, and Azeroth will never be the same, and gay couples and straight couples becasue love ppl, because, except these intentions might get her killed, how do i tag???, it's not really mentioned, let's face it guys, making plans out of fear, once Rae gets a move on shit will be going DOWN, probably, ptsd???, so scared, so there will be moments of like super gayness, sorry - Freeform, sort of, the road to hell is paved with good intentions, why do they need that many legs??? or eyes???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2018-11-08 17:30:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 38
Words: 23,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11086479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoundoutiNmRN/pseuds/SoundoutiNmRN
Summary: Riendeau Rae Whitman was your average 19 year old all American girl, and like any normal person she had problems. Family, work, being slightly more anti-social than most, being mysteriously transported to the world of Azeroth, binge watching to much Netflix... Wait... What was that last one? Rated M for strong language and descriptions of violence





	1. Settling Arc: Day 15? Or would it be 1?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Diary of a Mad Gamer Chick](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/295818) by Zoop. 



> Hello, hello and welcome to whatever the fuck this is!  
> Well, okay, so this had been rolling around in my head after I had read Diary of a Mad Gamer Chick by Zoop over on FFnet, the original idea was hers. I own nothing. Especially Warcraft. Warcraft is owned by Blizzard. I'm just using their world for my own nefarious purposes.  
> And by that I mean writing this thing.  
> Because I apparently hate myself.  
> Yay.  
> If you want more chapters bug me on my Tumblr---> https://yitora-wildwood-gilneas-rises.tumblr.com/  
> And my FFnet account--> https://www.fanfiction.net/~raesofbananacoloredsunshine

**Day… 15? Or would it be one? Apparently being unconscious for two weeks and not dying is a thing. And where the Hell am I?**

I’ve never been very good at keeping a journal. I keep it for a week and then don’t touch it for a year and then go back to read whatever it is I wrote and sort of gawk at how angsty it all was… but I digress. I’m currently holed up in a little room overlooking the court yard in Merchant’s Square. According to the nice dude whose house I’m currently squatting in, I was found washed up on the coast far to the west of here.

That was two weeks ago.

Since then, I’ve been bumped around to various places around Gilneas, to creepy cottages in the woods, to cozy little farms, to the Greymane Manor, to the local cathedral, and finally where I woke up.

And boy was that a shocker! Not only did I wake up in some stranger’s bed, I woke up in some stranger’s bed not knowing where the Hell I was. How I got to said place. Who said people were and of course the hundred gold question: How the fuck am I going to get home? All in all, a swell day I’m having so far. 

I mean, don’t get me wrong this would be so cool if it weren’t so… Not cool… I’m on Azeroth, brushing shoulder to shoulder with Genn-fucking-Greymane and his family because (apparently) some stranger washing up on their shores is something to get excited over. 

Oh, wait, right it was after the… Second or Third War that Greymane said, “Fuck it, I’m screwing over my allies and building a huge ass wall to keep out the Scourge. Yep. 10/10. Best king ever.”

I should probably mention that none of this should be happening right now like… Gilneas does not exist. Azeroth does not exist. At least not in a physical sense. Digitally yep. Totally. Because Blizzard has a solid gold logo cause they’re loaded and have created one of the most successful/popular MMO since D&D. 

I’m in World of Wacraft.

I’m in a world where violence is a common occurrence.

Where two factions are constantly trying to tear each other’s throats out.

Where the undead run rampant and pissed off elementals are kicking everyone’s ass. 

Shit.

Okay. Stop. Deep breaths Rae. No flipping shit. At least… No flipping shit until the Worgen curse comes along.

Shit. 

Forgot about that.

If I’m here that means that I’m post Cata before MoP and WoD. And as happy as I would be walking out of Greymane’s huge-ass gate with a mock salute and a smile, riding off into the sunset… I ain’t got jack. I’d be a chew toy for some wolf or become some poor schmuck that got sliced and diced by some Horde adventurer running around in Silverpine forest.

Shit.

I have to find a job. Preferably one that doesn’t involve me running around trying to kill things. I think I’ll ask my most gracious host --fuck what was his name?-- about any job opportunities that are in the area tonight at dinner. I’m not a complete gold-digger after all –heh-- and I want to repay him --seriously brain what is his name!!!-- in some way. 

I’ll have to start thinking long term if I want to survive what’s to come. Maybe-- JACK! His name is Jack! I feel so proud of myself now-- Maybe Jack knows a few board mages whose brains’ I could pick for information.


	2. Settling Arc: Evening on Day 2

**Evening on Day 2 because Fuck It being unconscious/comatose doesn’t count. And weird things abound.**

So I’ve been a busy little bee all day today. Jack had a few deliveries to various folks ‘round the city so I played errand girl. That guy knows everyone I swear, but not only did I get a small cut of all the deliveries at the end of the day I managed to make butt load of tips as well! Yay me!~

And all of that went straight into the bank. 

Speaking of the bank… There was an account in my name. Spooky. When I asked Jack about it he grunted and gave this half-assed shrug. I think that’s his way of saying “Don’t worry about it.” Who knows with the guy. Seriously though he speaks less then Sweden from Hetalia. Like… How is that even possible? 

Going back to the bank thing for a moment: Are there imps that get magical telegrams that have names on them? Did an imp sized portal open up and cough out my name on a slip of paper? I like to thinks so.

Wait. Do warlocks run the banks?

Actually that makes a lot of sense. Just portal your money from one bank to another. Or just store it in some… ender chest/portal thing…

Ugh. Nope. Not gonna think about it anymore. Nope. Nu-uh. No way. Instead I’m going to go to bed. Jack likes to get an early start and I am not a morning person.


	3. Settling Arc: Day 3-5 Nada Damn Thing

**Day 3-5 nothing interesting to report, Captain!**

Oh look I haven’t written anything for about three days, man I am so committed to documenting my experience of time/space travel I’m so fucking awesome…

So… yeah… I’ve been spending this time getting used to the layout of the city and surrounding areas. Turns out most things in the forests around the city are pretty docile. Unless you decide to fuck with ‘em, then you’re screwed mate.


	4. Settling Arc: Day 6 SHOPPING!

**Day 6 SHOPPING!~ And I still look like myself… Sort of…**

Yay! Okay, I like shopping for clothes as much as the next gal but when you get to go out with a heavy purse and a bunch of other girls you’ve managed to make friends with is actually pretty fun. Not mentioning the fact that I had no idea what the hell I was doing xD VICTORY!

Also traveling to different worlds does things with your anatomy. I mean, I still look like myself: Dark brown hair (although it’s longer now and no longer in a pixie cut), green/blue/gold eyes, 7/10 normally, 10/10 with some effort and makeup. But yeah, still me only I’m skinnier and have a better backside and slightly bigger boobs. Kinda hard to fly under the radar now though… On one hand boys finally notice me now, on the other hand, boys finally notice me and I don’t know what to do with that information…

Later on Day 6

I haz new clothes :3 yay~


	5. Settling Arc: Day 7-9 Still Nada

**Day 7-9 Still nothing to report, Captain!**

Did a few more deliveries. Got paid. Went home. Ate. All in all good few days. I don’t feel so alienated anymore, which is nice. Though I think Jack’s been working on something for the past few days. Hmm… Well, it’s not my place to pry although I have been dropping hints that “I know somethings bugging you man, but whenever you’re ready to talk I’m here.” I think he appreciates it.


	6. Settling Arc: Later on Day 10

**Later on Day 10 and I’ve decided to roll a Druid! Wait, what?**

M’kay so… I’m not entirely sure how we got onto that specific topic but apparently Jack and a few of his ol’ adventuring buddies would sneak out of Gilneas and go on random adventures around Silverpine forest. Wut? 

No seriously how? I thought the King’s word was law? 

“Oh no, tis.” Jack had told me, huge ass smirk to boot too. 

“So how’d you do it? Wait no, why did you do it?” I had to ask. This was Jack of cripes sake’s, like… He’s the most unassuming guy… And he didn’t tell me, he just gave me this little shit-eating grin that mocked my very existence… >:( 

But that then brought us to this next part of the conversation, turns out it was Jack and two of his buddies that would do the sneaking of the out: Jack, who was a hunter of all things, a warrior and a druid. 

A druid? I had given him this half confused/skeptical, half hopeful that he’d continue his story. 

He did continue… Just not in the way I expected: 

“I spent a lot of time with them, the druid (who will remain nameless) especially. We…” Now he was starting to get a little chocked up, oh God no. Please tell me that I think happened next didn’t actually happen! Please! “She taught me a few things. One of those things being able to identify different magical users. Mages, shamans, druids and the like.” 

I guess he took my silence as encouragement to keep going, “You and she have the same… aura I suppose. Tame but wild. Always moving, always changing. Like the wilds of nature…” 

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up. Me? A druid? That—that’s impossible! I mean, sure I guess, I do care more about the health Azeroth than the health of my own world (ouch) but still. Me! A druid! 

It’s kind of fitting I suppose… Since most of my character’s I’ve rolled have been druids… And Worgen… With the exception of my baby orc hunter and zombie warlock (that I’ve stopped playing but that’s beside the point) but… Yeah, druids mostly. 

But it doesn’t stop there, oh no. 

“I wanted to bring this up with you before, but I wanted to wait and see how you were settling in.” 

Well… That’s quite sweet of him. 

“I think you should begin your Druidic training.” 

Um… Really? I mean I don’t think I have what it takes. Look at me. And yes, I told him this. Not that deterred him in anyway. 

“You do have what it takes Rae. I know you do and… and there will come a time, when neither I nor anyone you could consider a friend will be there to help you. You will have to face that danger on your own but with training you at least have a fighting chance.” 

Well, when you put it that way… That sound’s rather ominous though. Does he… Does he know somehow? Whoa. 

No. I’m not doing this tonight. I decided to speak with Celestine of the Harvest tomorrow. Just to see what she does and what it’s like. 

I wonder if it’s too late to convince Jack to take me to the Hunter trainer instead? 


	7. Invasion Arc: Day uh... Few Weeks

**Day uh… Few weeks since my last entry and shit hit’s the fan! YAY!**

 **Invasion of Gilneas, Entry 1**

Told ya I can’t keep a journal. 

I’m currently hanging out on the edge of the Military District bordering Merchant’s Square. Worgen are everywhere. No one’s safe. Besides the city guards there was only myself and a handful of other novices, most were warriors or priest. There was also the odd hunter or two. Oh! There's the shady looking warlock and a rogue around here somewhere… Oh great! I’ve lost track of the rouge. 

HAHAHA fuck me right? 

I can't find the others though, there are no other druids besides Shand’do Celestine and myself. I hope that they’re okay. They better be okay. 

How did it get this bad? 

I-I’m trying to stay calm but oh my God they’re everywhere. I’m covered in so much blood and this-this is so different. I mean, hunting and killing a rabid bear or two to keep others safe that-that’s one thing! Celestine --Shand’do-- at least she would console the few druids under her instruction, myself included. 

I mean, I still barfed. 

Have been barfing. 

I don’t think I have anything left in my stomach anymore. I can’t seem to get the taste out of my mouth either. Water makes me feel queasy and food… I can’t even think about food right now. 

The warriors were laughing at me earlier after one worgen almost gutted me. Shand’do practically lit their asses on fire with some good ol’ Moonfire after that. Heh, serves them right. They’d barf too if they had to take another being’s life. Pretty sure some of them did actually… Few of them are looking rather green. 

To make matters worse, Jack’s gone. Out of the city delivering something or another to a Grandma Wahl. 

I hope he’s okay. 

He better not be dead though. I’ll kill him if he died on me. 

I guess I should go back to my time in Merchant’s Square, since I seem to be the only individual documenting this thing. 

This is so FUBAR. 

Alright… 

I had just finished my nightly meditation Shand’do would have us do and had begun to clean up after myself when the screams started. At first I was irritated and confused, why is everyone screaming? Sure, Winter’s Veil was just around the corner but there was no reason to scream about it. But… but then I realized that those screams weren’t over-excited kids or cheerful adults. It was terror. They were the screams of terror. 

As I ran outside to see what the commotion was I was assaulted with the metallic scent of blood and ear piercing screams and the guttural snarls of the worgen in the square. I heard Prince Liam before I saw him. He was atop his horse cutting down any worgen that dared to dance too close with his sword. 

“What are you still doing here, citizen? Haven't you heard? The city's under complete lockdown.” He had said. “Go see Lieutenant Walden -- he'll give you further directions for evacuation. You can find him in the northwestern end of the Merchant Square.” 

I nodded. I couldn’t fight, still can’t. So I grabbed a few other citizens running about the square and steered them northwest. I, we, found the Lieutenant. His body that is. Deep claw marks littered his body. It was awful. 

We returned to the square to find piles of bodies and our Prince still mounted atop his horse alive, covered in gore and streaked with sweat, but alive. Somehow I was voted as spokesperson of my little group and after the initial shock and anger of my report, Prince Liam ordered the rest of the civilians to make their way towards the Military District. 

He then asked me to evacuate a few more of the homes surrounding the square, "The doors with an 'x' edged in them have already been evacuated," He told me. "Check the others and, only if you are able, take out a few of these worgen. Every one worgen we kill is one less worgen going after the civilians." 

Well, when you put it like that. Guess it was time to put on my big girl pants. Although now that I think about it, I think I only have one leg on... I should probably get the other leg on huh? 

Anyways, I got about ten feet when Gwen Armstead pulled me aside and asked me to grab some supply crates left in the chaos and not one to say 'no' to rather sensible ideas I told her I'd see what I could find. 

It was after the third person I had evacuated when the worgen decided that I looked like an easy kill. They came at me in ones, sometimes twos, at first not really trying to overpower me-- or they're just stupid and didn't think about bum rushing me-- I guess when they saw that I didn't go down so easy that's when they took it up a notch. And for those of you at home who don't know what Wrath is, it's basically the equivalent of having a miniature sun in your hands as you turn people/worgen into crispy fried death. Complete with carnage and nightmares... If no one caught the sarcasm then I pity you. 

I keep getting side tracked-- So they started to attack me far more ferociously than before and either I have incredible luck, dumb skill or some God/Goddess-- the Light, whoever-- were watching over my sorry self because I'm --miraculously-- alive. I think it was a combination of all three, perhaps more of the divine intervention and luck than actual skill... I seriously need to thank Jack for pushing me to become a druid. 

It was only after I had "handed in" --read: told them I did it while looking like I might drop dead-- that I buggered on over to the edge of the Military District and Merchant's Square and here we are. 

I'm currently resting my eyes while Shand'do and the priest trainer --What was her name again?-- tend to the wounded. Shand'do practically jumped me when I trudged into the temporary camp, asking me "Where in the Spirits names were you?" and 

"You're lucky to be alive!", my favorite was, "What were you thinkin'? No, don't answer that, I don't want to know. SIT! Don't make me sift into my bear form and sit on you, don't-- Oi! No laughin' while I'm threat'n you!" 

On that note: I must have dinged level four during the fight for my life because the next thing Shand'do does is teach me Moonfire and Rejuvenation. 

"Wrath will only get you so far," She told me. "You'll need other ways to defend yourself and others." That... That stopped me, I mean... 

... This is real, isn't it. This... I have to be in this for the long run now don't I? Don't I? Would I even leave if the opportunity presented itself? I... I don't know. I don't think I could leave everyone. Not like this. Even now as a novice druid and a child they look to me to defend them. 

I... I think I got my other leg into my big girl pants. 

Gotta wrap this up, were moving further into the Military District now. I think I heard someone say that we're meeting up with King Greymane and his group outside the prison. Will write more later.


	8. Invasion Arc: IoG, Entry 2

**Invasion of Gilneas, Entry 2**

Oh my God ohmygodohmygodohmygod I- I'm shaking. This can't be happening. Maybe it won't effect me? Maybe-- Oh my god it looks awful! 

Stop it, stop it, STOP IT! 

CALM DOWN 

OH MY GOD I GOT BIT! 

STOP! BREATH! 

Okay... I'm okay. Sort of, okay not really. I think I'm going to cry. 

okay, okay, okay gotta back it up. 

I had left off at the edge of the Military District and Merchant's Square, did some quests and fought for my life. Okay. Good. And then I had wrote that we were packing up camp to met up with the King. So I guess that I'll start from just after that point in time. 

It was a rather short walk to King Greymane and his group but with the weight of the injured and the paranoia of an imminent worgen attack made the walk feel so much longer. It's... It's different than the game. I mean, there are emotional attachments, sure but this? This is a war zone. No. Not a war zone. A blood bath. 

And I-I'm caught in the middle of it all. Oh god oh god what if I die here? What if I never get home? I wanna go home. I wanna go home. 

Okay. Sorry. I just... I had to put my journal down for a minute. I'm okay... I'm okay. 

So... Where was I? 

Right. 

I spoke to Greymane. He asked me to speak to Captain Broderick and to find out where Crowley is inside the prison. He also asked me to assist Crowley in anyway I could. "Lord Darius Crowley has been called many things." He told me. "Rebel. Traitor. Terrorist. Before the civil war I called him... friend. I never blamed him for leading an insurrection against me. His land and people were separated from Gilneas by a stone wall... but we had no choice. Regardless... Crowley is exactly the type of person we need now. Enter Stoneward Prison and ask Captain Broderick about Crowley's whereabouts. I'd send my own men, but there's still bad blood." 

I get it I suppose. So I agreed. I was just about to leave when Lord Godfry pulled me aside. "Aside" being a relative term seeing as he was still mounted on his horse looking down on me. 

Jerk. 

Anyways he asked (read: ordered) me to kill some worgen, stating that it was "Fine by me if King Greymane wants you to risk your life to rescue a known traitor. Do me a favor and do something useful while you're out there and kill these cursed fleabags." What am I? Your personal hit-man or something? Although I think Genn heard him, not that he was quiet mind you, and give Godfry a hilarious pissed-off-dead-pan face. It was great. 

So off I went, ganking worgen and trying not to die. 

I think Godfry is trying to kill me though. Either it's because I'm a druid or it's the fact that my face gives away how done I am with him. Or maybe it's because I'm a woman and I have bigger cojones then him. Hard to know. I'm thinking it's a little of all three... 

So I made my way to the Captain, relaying my orders from the King. I already know Crowley'll be upstairs, just like in the game but the Captain seemed keen to add his two coppers to the Crowley bashing party as well, "I don't understand why the king wants to waste time saving his hide, but if you want to risk your life, then be my guest. Crowley and his men are holed up upstairs, probably plotting against the king as we speak" 'Kay. Thanks for that. I'm just going to do my job now. Well, I guess it's good to know for sure. 

So I made my way upstairs and dispatched any and all worgen that got in my way, which weren't to many thankfully. I found Crowley and his crew quickly enough, seeing as they were the only living things on the roof, and made my way over. There were four men in total. One of them seemed to be seriously injured while another, an older gentleman, tended to him. The other two were holding off any worgen that got too close, one of them had a wooden floor board(?) as a weapon while the other only had his fists. The one with the wood plank stopped me from getting any closer. 

"Stop! Who are you?" Different from the game, oh well. I just went with it. 

"Uh... Hello there. My name is Riendeau Whitman... I was asked to speak with Lord Crowley?" 

"By who's authority?" Asked the weaponless man. 

"The King's." 

The weaponless man seemed surprised with my statement, if the shocked, "Genn sent you?!" was anything to go by. 

"Am I right to assume that you are the Lord Darius Crowley?" Had to make sure. You know, seeing as how real life is much more complicated than game life. 

He extended his hand for me to shake, "I lost my Noble status when I rebelled against the King," He explained. "So please, call me Crowley." He turned to the three other men beside him, "This," he motioned towards the man with floor board. "Is Tobias Mistmantle. Our injured is Sean Dempsey and the good man tending to him is Vincent Hersham." 

I shook his hand briefly before we turned our gaze to watching the roofs around us. "Pleasure to finally meet you... Crowley... And all of you." 

Tobias only grunted, most of his focus going into watching the rooftops around us. Hersham was to busy tending to Dempsey to answer and Dempsey was, well, unconscious. 

"Likewise Miss Riendeau. So what flattering things have I been called so far, hmm?" 

I felt my lips twitch into a small smile. This man's sarcasm, I like it. "Oh you know," I said casually. "The usual: Traitor. Rebel scum. A 'waste of time' and a 'lost cause' were tossed around..." I sighed, sobering. "But His Majesty asked me to speak with you about allying our peoples. The worgen outbreak is too much for any one faction to fight against." 

Crowley was quiet for some time, thinking over the offer's pros and cons no doubt. 

Needless to say I was a little startled when Crowley spoke again, "Greymane's right. These beasts do not care what our political affiliations are. Gilneas needs to stand together. I accept your offer Riendeau but one of those mangy fleabags got Dempsey real good. We cannot move him until we stabilize his bleeding." 

"How long will that take? Perhaps I can help?" 

The older gentleman shook his head, stating that it shouldn't take him long but "Thank you for the offer druid." 

It was kinda nice up on that roof. The sounds of battle were muted all the way up here... But peace never lasts. The sound of a ferocious howl drew our attention to the cathedral across the canal, there had to be dozens of worgen up there... And they were coming straight for us. 

"Give us a hand holding back these mongrels. A couple of minutes is all we need, sister!" 

"You've got that hand Crowley!" I said, I felt Wrath forming in my hands and as the first worgen touched down I blackened it on the spot. "I am so fucking done with these fucking worgen!" 

It felt like eternity, Tobias kept braining any worgen that got to close to Hersham and Dempsey, while Crowley and I took on the brunt of the attack. The worgen soon learned that fighting a pissed off druid was not the best approach and soon directed their attention to Crowley. But little did they know that, even without a weapon, Crowley was just as dangerous. Little by little less worgen were attacking and Crowley and I pressed our advantage. By the end of the battle we were waist deep in corpses, sweat and gore covering our bodies and the stench of burnt flesh invading our noses. We were alive. 

I felt a hand clamp down onto my shoulder, it was Crowley. "We did it, Riendeau. Thanks to you a good man has survived." 

I breathed out a rather shaky laugh and grinned. I had no words. We were alive. 

But Crowley continued, "Listen, Riendeau. For the first time since the civil war I agree with Greymane. Now is the time to put aside our quarrel. It sure doesn't look like these beasts much care whether you're a rebel or a royal. Send word back to Greymane, my men will join his. There's a safe house not far from here, in Josiah's cellar. My lads stashed some heavy artillery there. Tell our king that my arsenals are now at his disposal." 

I nodded in agreement, but not without giving a questioning look towards Dempsey. 

The former lord seemed to know what I was asking, which I was thankful for, since I my words would likely fail me. "Don't worry," He said. "We'll be right behind you but you need to get back to Greymane." 

With another nod from me I trudged off, back towards the entrance of the prison where, thankfully, none of the worgen took much notice of me. 

When I got back I told Godfry I completed his task and if I wasn't so tired I would have laughed at the face he was making. It looked like he was sucking a lemon. When I went over to Greymane I was greeted by a mildly disturbed version of Godfry-the-lemon-sucker and realized I probably looked like a mass murder... Well... I mean... 

"Crowley asked me to tell you that his men will join yours," I began. "There is a safe house not far from here, a man by the name of Josiah is keeping some heavy artillery for Crowley, which is now in your disposal." 

Oh look, Godfry's shared some lemons with Greymane. 

"Rebel arsenals? In my own city? What in the bloody hell was Crowley up to?" Pretty sure that that was a rhetorical question but I just kinda shrugged in response anyways. "Never mind that," Continued Greymane. "The arsenal Crowley speaks of is in the cellar of a building just west of here. It is unnerving that artillery was smuggled inside the city by my enemies, yet it might end up saving Gilnean lives today. Find Josiah Avery and requisition the rebel artillery. We will put the weapons to good use. But first speak with Olivia Wilder for a change of clothes." 

Once again I could only nod as I wandered over to Olivia... I'm pretty sure she was just an NPC in game because I don't remember anyone by that name. But, anyways, one change of clothes and some food later I was ready to go find this "Josiah Avery". 

I didn't really remember much from the game, especially when I first started Yitora all those months ago, so needless to say I was a little shocked when I found that basement Greymane told me about. Since... You know... You get bit by Avery and become a worgen... S-so to make the long story short... I got bit. In the same manner as the game would have for the players... 

_You were bitten by a worgen, the wound looks minor... maybe it'll go away with time?_


	9. Invasion Arc: IoG, Entry 3

**Invasion of Gilneas, Entry 3**

I’m slightly calmer now, only because the bite’s been cleaned and wrapped and is currently out of sight… Not that that helps. I can still feel it, the biting pain whenever I use my left arm. The tingles of the Worgen curse, flowing through my veins. 

I’m getting a little ahead of myself here. 

It was almost like a dream really, like I was watching myself inch closer and closer to an obviously distressed Avery, I knew… Somewhere, in the back of my mind I knew what was going to happen next but I couldn’t stop myself from getting within biting range. When I came to it was too late, Avery had given me one large chomp onto my left forearm before swatting me back towards the stairwell on the opposite side of the room. 

I hear a guttural growl to my left and for a moment I thought more worgen had found their way down the stairs, it was only after a quiet click and then bang! of a gun did I realize that I was safe… Or at least, as safe as a girl could be now days. 

“Are you alright there?” Asked the voice of my savior. 

“Uh…” Not very eloquent but it gave me a few moments to bandage the wound. “Yes, yes I’m alright, thank you.” I took that moment to look my savior over, she was older than me, only be a few years though. Her raven black hair was all over the place as her eyes continued to glare at the body of Josiah Avery. I remember her, Crowley’s daughter… Luna? Lora? No… 

“Lorna Crowley, Miss…?” 

Riiigghht, her name was Lorna. 

“Uh, Whitman. Riendeau Whitman.” 

She nodded and hummed quietly, still looking over Avery’s body and I took the time to properly dress my wound, “He turned into one of them...” I jumped, startled from the sudden noise… Which seems to be happening a lot to me lately, thankfully she didn’t notice and continued speaking. “Didn't he? How do we even begin to fight an enemy that can do this to us?” She sighed, a deep frown settled onto her face, “My father's arsenal's certainly a good start, I suppose.” She turned to me. “Worgen are hiding in the alleys ahead. Take one of my mastiffs to find them more easily. We're going to need to clear the way ahead if we're going to move these cannons above ground.” 

Well when you say it like that, makes it seem like I have no say… Well… Actually it’s probably better if she stayed here while I thinned out the worgen. 

Will write more later.


	10. Invasion Arc: IoG, Entry 3 continued

**Invasion of Gilneas, Entry 3 continued**

I’m in Greymane’s Court now, which is opposite of Merchant’s Square… This night is lasting forever and I’m starting to slip. The bite isn’t helping either. News about Avery has spread through the remaining survivors like wildfire, everyone is completely wound up, so much so that I saw a few survivors being carted off screaming that they weren’t bit, they weren’t infected… The screams stopped after a few shots were fired. No, no I… I don’t think I’ll be telling anyone anytime soon… 

If I can just slip away. 

Yes, I think that’s what I’ll do. Second I get the chance I’m out of here. 

I said that I’d write later. Right. 

So I accepted Lorna’s quest of sniffing out the hidden worgen and, surprisingly, I found that it wasn’t too difficult to complete. Am I going to read further into that? Nope. Instead I’m going to thank the adorable mastiff that she lent me and continue on with the story. 

Continuing… 

By that time, I had returned to Genn, telling him about Lorna’s intervention and, I quote, “It's time, Riendeau. We'll take it from here. Tell King Greymane that my father's arsenal will be at his disposal. There's more than enough firepower to blow the worgen from here to the North Sea.” 

Then Greymane asked me to take another quest. 

In all honesty I just wanted to slink away before I turned. Is that too much to ask, O Great Gods Who Find It Hilarious to Fuck with my Life? 

Whatever, what’s done is done. 

But he continued talking, unaware what was going through my mind at that moment, “… We can't open fire just yet, there is a civilian trapped on the other side of the prison. Not just any civilian, either. Krennan Aranas is one of the most brilliant alchemists this world has known. One of his potions saved my daughter, Tess, from dying soon after being born. Take my horse and rescue him. Krennan must live.” 

Oh, that asshole… 

Not that he’s actually an asshole, very sweet, he looks like the overly-enthusiastic grandpa-type. Which is hella adorable. I think I zoned out at some point because I was sure that there was more to that speech than well, what he told me… 

But I remember this one bit from the game… Only because it pissed me off. I remember rolling my first druid, Yitora, and trying to find out where he was for the final battle bit, you know, before all the cursed and non-cursed citizens bum rush the city in order to take it back? And you have to buff them or something? Yeah that bit. Well I wandered around like a class A dipshit for, God had to have been over an hour, trying to find him to start the damn quest. Found him later after I had died several times from wandering the city in a little shit-shack by the bridge ready to go… Fuck sake… 

Anyways, so I was sent off to rescue Aranas, which, for those of you who don’t know, involves a horse and saving the poor bastard whose hanging from a tree in his knickers. 

In game is stupid simple, you don’t even control the horse and when you find Aranas you simply press a key and he hops off the branch he was hanging on behind you on the horse. Then you ride off, still not controlling the horse, hop over the barricade and back to Greymane. 

Oh no. 

Nope. 

Never that easy because unlike the game this is real life and in real life you, or I, in this case have to… steer? Turn? You have to control the damn horse is what I’m trying to say. And you have to dodge worgen –Those little fuckers are fast let me tell you, one almost bit my head clean off! —and get Aranas onto the scared-as-all-shit horse –without him becoming minced meat mind you-- and then ride back to safety while dodging even more worgen… 

Gods only know how I managed that one. 

But I did. 

And just in the nick of time too, as soon as Greymane’s mount cleared the barricade I could hear Godfrey bellow, “We've got Aranas! Fire at will!” only seconds before the thunderous sounds of a cannon and the death screeches of worgen are reverberating through the air. Again and again the cannons are fired and each time less and less worgen are eager to attempt trying to overrun the barricade. 

“We've done all we can here.” Said Godfrey, pulling me aside before I got too far. “Let King Greymane know we've bought some time. I've a feeling it won't be long till the worgen are back in force. We'll need to fall back to Greymane Court to the west, if that's the case. It's the last place we can hold out without being trapped like fish in a barrel.” 

Why the hell am I the one everyone’s going to for help? I-I don’t even know anymore. Is it because I’m here and it’s convenient? Or, oh Gods, am I the only trainee left? Is it because I’m the only one left to get help from? Come to think of it… I haven’t seen any of the other trainees since I got to Greymane’s Court… 

So we went west, towards Greymane’s Court, where I’m writing now. On our way we passed a horde of worgen being held off by some of the city’s remaining guard but they… Honestly I can’t believe that I’m only just realizing it, they were citizens… Their clothes, although torn to shreds, still resembled what myself and others around me were wearing. A hundred feet later and we were safe, I nearly collapsed in a dead heap. I was so tired. Scratch that I still am tired, but at least I’m able to eat and drink something, all the while sitting within earshot of Greymane, his son, Crowley and Godfrey. 

“If we can make it past the gates into Duskhaven,” Began Greymane. “We'll be safe. The eastern mountains are virtually impassable.” 

Crowley nodded in agreement but brought up a crucial point: “We need to keep the worgen's attention in the city, Genn. It's the only shot we have for the survivors to make it to Duskhaven.” 

That’s when Prince Liam piped up, “I'll stay behind with the Royal Guard, father. It is my duty to Gilneas.” It feels like a lifetime ago when he first told me to evacuate the rest of Merchant’s Square. He actually smiled when he saw me scuttle into camp before turning his attention back to matters at hand. 

Crowley snorted, glancing sidelong at his Highness, “Not a chance, boy. Gilneas is going to need its king's undivided attention. Can't have your father wondering whether his child is alive or not.” He shifted his gaze back to Greymane, a deep frown and a furrowed brow marring his face. “My men and I will hole up inside the Light's Dawn Cathedral. I've already given the order and the cannons are on their way. Lead our people well, Genn.” 

“We were fools to take up arms against each other, Darius.” He sighed. “The worgen would've never stood a chance.” 

_The bite wound is getting worse. You don’t feel so good…_


	11. Invasion Arc: IoG, Entry 4

**Invasion of Gilneas, Entry 4**

So I’ve decided to join Crowley for the last stand at the Light’s Dawn Chapple. I have a few minutes before we head out, we’re waiting on the last few survivors to saddle up and for Genn to get this show on the road. A few folks decided to get a head of the crowd, mainly the trainers. 

Shand’do was insistent that I go with her and it broke my heart to tell her that I was staying behind. To cover any stragglers and dispatch any worgen that followed, that’s what I told her. It wasn’t a total lie I guess. I still felt bad about it though. So when I went up to Crowley to tell him that I was in. 

“You don't have to do this, Riandeau.” Crowley told me. “You've done more than enough already.” A pause, I was serious and he knew this. “But if you decide to stay... I'd be a fool to turn you away.” 

“I know,” I said quietly, clutching my left forearm. 

His gaze flickered down to my arm and then back up to my face, a look of understanding seemed to dawn in his eyes and he smiled gently. He turned and looked in the direction of the cathedral. “My men have fortified their position inside the cathedral and are ready for what comes next. I'm about to head there and take as many of these flea-ridden devils with me as I can. You're welcome to come along for the ride.” 

I snorted, like there was any other option. Still… 

A suicide mission is how I go out, huh? 

Better than turning in the mists of the last few survivors. 

I guess that’s my reasoning. 

“Hey,” I looked up, Crowley was still there –didn’t he have a horse to prep or something? —with a worried dad look in his eyes, he placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “It’ll be alright, Riendeau. I--” 

“Don’t promise.” I blurted. “Don’t. Because I know what’s happening to me, I know that I don’t have a lot of time left, and I know that there’s a good chance that I’ll end up with a bullet between the eyes.” My eyes burned, I felt my throat close up and my bottom lip tremble. “But I’ll be damned if I go out with a whimper.” 

It’s so easy to forget that these people are real to me now. That they are husbands and wives and mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters. I care about their safety, their lives, and even though I can barely protect myself, these people are mine to protect. Crowley is a father and between the two of us he has more to protect, he has his daughter. So just because I lost my family doesn’t mean anyone else should have to. Realistically I know that I can’t protect everyone, that’s just how it works, but that doesn’t mean I can’t save as many people as possible. 

The former lord sighed sadly, “Alright… I won’t promise, but that doesn’t mean I won’t help you in any way I can.” 

Shit. 

I don’t even know what to feel right now. 

I probably won’t survive the next few hours. 

Why not raise a little Hell right? 

I’d like to think that my parents would be proud of me right now, I became a druid. I’ve fought like a demon outta Hell for people I don’t even know. Most importantly I didn’t let this crumble into a heap of despair when I figured that there was no mortal means of getting home or when I was bit. Both of which would have been entirely appropriate times to do so, so brownie points for me. 

I’m so ti— 

Crowley’s waving me over. The last of the survivors have just left. It’s go time. 

Wish me luck.


	12. Invasion Arc: IoG, Entry 5

**Invasion of Gilneas, Entry 5**

Tobias left a few minutes ago to see what’s up, I think he thinks that if the coast is clear everyone else could make a break for it. 

We're in the Light’s Dawn Cathedral and it’s unnervingly quiet. We’ve just finished dispatching the last of the worgen inside and are currently milling about… I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit. We’ve been fighting for so long (at least, it feels like a long time, really it couldn’t have been more than a few days at most) that the silence is oppressive. 

The natural amount of paranoia that I just have isn’t helping either, neither is the fact that my gut is screaming that something God awful is going to happen soon. 

What besides me turning into a worgen? No idea. 

I’ve been trying to remember what happens after and I just… What’s the point I guess. If I’m going to die that is. 

I should have said something sooner. 

Would it have stopped all of this from happening? Probably not. But I could have saved so many more people by just giving them a fucking warning. 

But what do I do instead? I pretend. I pretend that I’m, in fact, not from another world, that I didn’t know what was going to happen, that I haven’t played these scenarios before. I pretended that I was just like everyone else here, that the only remarkable thing about me was that I washed up on Gilneain shores with “no memory” of how I got there or where I came from. 

These people open up their arms to me and welcomed me as one of their own. And if anyone at home knows their lore, they’d know that Gilneains (read: Genn) are a rather distrusting bunch. 

And what do I do? 

I fuck ‘em all over. 

This is my punishment. I get it now. For whatever reason I was brought here to warn Gilneas about the worgen. About Sylvanas and her Forsaken. But I ballsed it up and now I’m going to turn into a mindless killing machine. 

That seems fair. Now that I think about it. 

Become something even more mindless than I already am. 

Yup. 

I’m going to hide this under the bookshelf that I’m sitting against, hopefully no one finds it. 

But Just in case someone does… 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Dear Jack, 

Thank you for pushing me to become a druid, you were right to say that someday the only person that I could rely on was myself and when the time came I ripped a whole bunch of worgen a new one. I hope you’re safe, and alive. Alive and safe. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I really was. There is no excuse that I lied to you and I hope that you can, someday, forgive me. 

Riendeau 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Dear Shand’do, 

Thank you for training me. Thank you for encouraging me. Thank you for protecting me and being the mother that I so sorely miss. 

Thank you for comforting me, when we had to hunt down those rabid bears and kill them, you knew that I had never killed anything before and said that it was okay. Thank you for respecting and commending my belief that all life is sacred, but that, at the same time, understood that I understood that some things must be done. 

I’m sorry that our last words were just me lying to you. I wanted so, so badly to go with you. Or slink away. One of the two… But I… I couldn’t stand the thought of hurting you or any of the other survivors. 

So if I live, feel free to sit on me… 

I’m sorry. 

Riendeau 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Dear Crowley, 

I know you won’t get a chance to read this but, thank you for trusting me, even though I was bit. Thank you for being a father, even though you need a solider more. Thank you for giving me a chance to do a little more good in the world, even though I don’t deserve it. 

I don’t expect you to forgive me, in fact I’m sure you’ll hate me. So I won’t as for your forgiveness. Instead, all I can do is apologize. 

I’m sorry I’m not the hero I could have been. 

Riendeau 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Dear Your Majesty, 

You put your faith in me, you trusted me and I was not totally honest with you. I have written this rather quickly and have passed it on to Crowley, since I do not know what fate has in store for me. 

If you are reading this and I am not present, either because I’m running around as some mindless monster or that I’m dead, but please, know that I am sorry. 

I knew that the cures was coming, when specifically I did not know, but I knew. And that is inexcusable. 

The truth is that I’m from another world. 

Impossible I know but it’s the truth. 

And in this world I have seen what happens next. 

After the curse Sylvanas and her Forsaken will come seeking to take control of Gilneas and there is very little that can be done to stop it. 

She will instruct one of her generals to continue production of The Plague, something even Garrosh himself forbids. Oh, right, Garrosh Hellscream becomes Warchief after Thrall leaves to save Azeroth. The Night Elves come and help us. They take us across the sea to Teldrassil, where your people remain until moving to take back Gilneas. When that is I do not know. 

A summit will be held for you and your people’s readmission into the Alliance. 

Varian is very butthurt about this. But later becomes less butthurt and allows for your people to rejoin the Alliance. 

Some Highborne are murdered. Maiev Shadowsong is the one responsible for this and tries to kill Malfurion Stormrage as well. Do not trust her. 

Also Garrosh uses Proto-Drakes and Magnataur taken from Northrend. They use them to take Silverwing outpost. Priestess Tyrande goes to investigate and almost gets assassinated, but lives. 

One last thing: Watch Garrosh. An island is discovered cal—


	13. Intermission: Part 1

**So it’s been about a month… I think… Maybe…**

It’s… strange being back after being nothing more than a wild animal for several weeks. I’m currently in Duskhaven right now and things are relatively quiet, the only noises being the soft pitter patter of rain on the roof of the house I’m in and the quiet snarls and growls of the feral worgen that I hear next door. Right… I’m next door to where they were holding me not a few hours before. 

It feels like some long and freakish nightmare that I can’t seem to wake up from, a time loop where I keep reliving fragments of events that took place before I turned. I wish I had my journal with me. I can’t seem to remember where I left it though. And I can’t shake this… Nagging feeling… Like I’m forgetting something… Oh, well I’m sure I’ll remember it with time. So paper scraps and a solid surface is all I’ll be able to manage for now I think. 

Right, so… It’s hard to collect my thoughts. Everything’s jumbled and fuzzy around the edges… 

When I… when I came to after… after pain… Right, they caught me in a bear trap and they healed it. After, after that… I remember Genn… And Aranas was there too. Drinking somethings… something quiet awful tasting and then… And then it was like… Part of the haze was lifted away. I remembered who I was… 

Godfrey was there too I remember; he was waiting for me to untangle myself from the stockade. “So Krennan's potion did not kill you?” He sniffed, clearly displeased that I had lived. “Well, I suppose that means the human inside of you is in control then.” No shit, I thought. “I guess I won't be shooting you after all.” A pause. Asshole. “At least not yet. Go speak to Krennan Aranas and give him the good news. Just remember, Riendeau... I've got my eye on you. You so much as try anything funny and you'll get a bullet between the eyes.” Gee thanks, you really know how to make a girl feel welcome. I was tempted to tell Godfrey to go jump off a cliff but that, knowing Godfrey, would have been considered “funny” and would have resulted in me getting shot. Jerk. 

So I meandered on over to the house where I’m currently writing in now. Gwen was there and I was surprised with how warm my welcome back from her was, she continued to say that I was fortunate and that, and I quote, “Krennan's treatment doesn't always work this well on people who've had the Curse as long as you.” 

Not three seconds after she said that Krennan and Jack, of all people, walked in. I almost didn’t recognize him! He had turned, same as me. And while Krennan continued to talk, Jack practically smothered me, asking if I was okay, if I was hungry, or tired. It was really sweet. I’m smiling right now just thinking about it. 

That nagging feeling just won’t go away. 

Ugh. 

I don’t know. I kinda want to ask Gwen if she knew what happened after I turned, the last thing I really remember was… Was saying goodbye to Shand’do… 

Shand’do… 

Oh shit. 

I need to talk to her! 

I’m so dead. 

Will write later if I’m still alive.


	14. Intermission: Part 2

**Later on A Few Hours After I Remembered That I’m Not A Wild Animal**

‘Kay. 

Not that bad. 

I mean, Shand’do tried to metaphorically strangled me for being a complete idiot (which, I admit, I was), really I got off easy. I only got one of her famous death glares and a rather long and embarrassing lecture on how I was one of the dumbest students she’s ever had the misfortune to train. 

Mild. Like I said. 

Anywho during that time Jack invited Shand’do to continue her lecture while we ate dinner in Aranas’s half-way house/laboratory/worgen watching base-thing… And now Jack will never let me live that down. I think he even managed to write the whole thing down. How? No idea, considering he was laughing so hard tears were streaming down his face. Yeah, laugh it up chuckles, I’ll get you back. 

BUT that wasn’t the best thing to happen. Okay, getting chewed out by your teacher isn’t all that great but the way… okay. 

So Shand’do Celestine is amazing, I think I already stated that. But one thing that I think I might have let out is that she takes personal offence if one of her students does something so insurmountably stupid (like getting bit by a worgen and then going on a suicide mission) that she trains us to the bone. Which I’m okay with. 

Sense of normalcy and all that. 

Keep getting sidetracked. 

She taught me how to speak with the Spirits and make a contract to use their forms! And first up, drum roll please… My cat form!!! It’s so exciting! AnD IM SO PRETTY!!! : DDDDD 

I’m so happy right now. 

Also going to allow myself to get sidetracked for one more second: I’ve noticed that I’m not bothered being a Worgen. But I have noticed the worgen that the warriors, priest and warlock trainees are super fidgety, they HATE being a worgen. The hunters seem fine though. Maybe it’s because were closer to nature or something like that. I don’t know. 

Anyways. 

Continuing. 

I spoke with Gwen, excuse me, Mayor Gwen (lol), to see if she could give me a few more puzzle pieces to play with… 

This is… where it gets hard. 

Three more worgen burst through the church windows the second I begin to turn, some more must have rushed the entrance. Screams of terror and orders were echoing loud enough to shake the rafters. It was chaos. When I changed… When I changed I bit I just went after the person closest to me, the single survivor had said. I-I don’t remember though. I don’t remember her face. It’s… It’s just a blank. 

Something comes after though. The nagging feeling won’t go away… I learned a long time ago to trust my gut and it hasn’t proven me wrong yet. 

Something’s coming. 

I just can’t remember what it is…


	15. Battle Arc: BfG, Entry 1

**What did I do in a Past Life to Piss Off the Universe This Much? Battle for Gilneas, Entry 1**

Remember when I had mentioned that nagging feeling that didn’t want to go away? 

Well it finally decided to show itself… In the form of the Forsaken Navy. 

The day had started out normal enough, wake up, train with Shand’do, wash, eat breakfast and then take some of Aranas’ medicine soon after. Only problem was that he had run out of the main ingredient for the medicine some time ago and had failed to mention it until that morning. Which wasn’t as big of a deal as you would think. 

Turns out the regular dosages were for the newly turned. It was to make sure that they didn’t go postal inside town and that I had finished my allotted observation period without so much as a sideways glance. So I was off the hook for taking my meds (at least, until tomorrow), but that didn’t mean others didn’t need it, so Aranas asked me if I would go fetch some. 

Naturally I agreed to do so. 

“I will need mandrake essence to brew another batch of my serum for you. You will find a crate stashed beneath a shed southwest of town.” He had said, I knew where he was talking about. It’s a relatively open area, perfect for the warriors to spar and for Shand’do and I to go a few rounds in our cat forms. 

So I meandered on over to where the crate should have been, seeing as how I was in no great rush, only to be greeted by the sickly-sweet sent of death and smashed vials of the putrid mandrake essence that Aranas had us drink. 

I knew right away that the Watchman was dead. Collin. Collin Kenelm. 

I knew right away that Collin was dead. 

No heartbeat. No breath. 

Perks of being a Worgen I guess… 

But those heightened senses are what saved my life. 

The quiet drawing of diggers alerted me first, the screech of “Gilneas will soon belong to the Forsaken!” had me firing off Wrath faster that I thought possible. 

It had burned a large, gaping hole in her chest and one of her arms off before I finished her. A quick slash to the throat silenced any other cries. 

The Forsaken. 

It was strange to see one of them up close. Stranger still seeing three of their armada off the coast. 

I had gone back to Duskhaven soon after, my trip cut short in my panic to warn Gwen and the rest of the survivors. 

The warriors and the Watchmen are with Prince Liam right now, driving back the first wave of Forsaken. Shand’do and I are helping to set up traps and barricades and move citizens around, to make it harder for the Forsaken to gain entry to the town, should they overwhelm our warriors. 

I’ll be joining them in a moment though.


	16. Battle Arc: BfG, Entry 2

**Battle for Gilneas, Entry 2**

Unlike Worgen, Forsaken organized. 

Pushed back ground troops and abominations for now. They’re everywhere. 

Relatively easy too… Forsaken feel like cannon fodder… or maybe just that good. 

Anyways. 

Tremors. 

Lots of tremors, I feel the earth breaking out from under us. Not good. Hurts. 

Downsides to being a Druid, I guess… 

Gwen sent me to Godfrey, has me as his personal hitman again… Great. 

Mother though, Melinda, asked me to find her kids. 

Sorry Godfrey, battle can wait.


	17. Battle Arc: BfG, Entry 3

**Battle for Gilneas, Entry 3**

Have a little more time to write, I’m in Stormglen right now. In the old inn I think. Not important. 

Lots of things. 

Where to start? 

After saving those kids I guess… 

It was after I had sent all three of the Hammond children that I turned my attention to the battlefield. 

The Forsaken had swarmed the hills and blocked any escape from the sea, their catapults hurling fiery projectiles in all directions taking out friend and foe alike. 

I had… *clears throat* requisitioned several of the Forsaken catapults in order to take out the three captains of Sylvanas’ navy, after I had finished with that I was to… and I’m not exaggerating on this: Call forth a pack of fucking attack mastiffs to rip Sylvanas’ Dark Ranger a new one. Ho-ly fuck. 

Yeah… Those images are forever seared into my brain. 

But… Gods that didn’t compare to what happened next. 

I don’t think I would have ever amounted to much as a druid if the Worgen hadn’t come along, before I could hear… It’s hard to describe… Incoherent whispers. Feelings at the most. A nudge this way, a pull that way. That’s all I could get from the Spirits. Now? As a Worgen and a druid, I now have a hardline connection to Azeroth, I can hear them perfectly. It’s… Rather comforting actually. 

That being said I could feel the impending tremor rocketing towards Gilneas and it felt like… Like I was being stabbed. Over and over again and I could feel the Spirits cry out in pain as the world was torn asunder. 

Deathwing was on the loose. 

Liam had told me that I was out for several minutes, he had said that I just collapsed, shrieking in pain… Babbling something about the Old Gods, the Maelstorm and The Shattering, before slipping into unconsciousness. 

When I came too I was still in the Hammond’s basement with Godfrey eyeballing me. I gave him a half-hearted glare before stumbling up the stairs to meet up with Liam. 

I swore violently. 

The whole west bank of Gilneas was flooded to hell with barely a foot of land left before the Hammond’s house tumbles into the sea. 

Liam stood there, eyes wide and disbelieving. “The ocean, Riendeau. It swallowed up everything… the land… the Forsaken… our men!” He turned to me and, I guess, he didn’t like what he saw. “No time to waste. A good half of the town watch was in the area that collapsed. Stay here while I save as many as I can. Just make sure to get them out of the water and onto shore and get them any aid they need.” 

I nodded before collapsing onto the ground and tearing into my pack, looking for anything that could help the half-drowned watchmen. I waited. And waited. And waited. My anxiety tripling with every passing minute and I couldn’t help but pace. Not thirty seconds later Liam burst from the water, clutching a passed out watchman on his shoulder. He repeated this process several more times, each time having to swim further and further from shore. It was after the seventh watchman that Liam had pulled from the water that Godfrey told him to stop. 

“No! No! There are still more I can save! Let me—” 

I grasped his shoulders gently, “Liam. Liam please.” There was a wild look in his eyes when he faced me, they screamed of desperation and hurt and I’d be lying if it didn’t break my heart. “They’re gone Liam. The last three you pulled from the water are gone. Stop. Please.” 

He did. He stopped and I had to watch some of the light fade from his eyes. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before, he’s young, my age. Perhaps a few years older. And look at us, we were fighting for survival not a month before, now? Now we're fighting a war. 

It wasn’t fair. 

So we stood in silence, just the two of us and we waited. 

“We've escaped through dumb luck, Riendeau.” Liam began. “But luck is running out. The coast is becoming flooded even as we speak. And from the look of it, the landmass beneath us hasn't quite settled yet. I hate to say this, but we have to leave.” I could feel the fury boiling under the surface. “Curses, Riandeau... I cannot lose my homeland twice in one lifetime. Yet these earthquakes are not an enemy we can defeat. Tell Gwen Armstead to start the evacuation.” 

“It will be done my Prince.” I said, bowing my head, I left I gave him one last gentle pat on the shoulder before shifting into my cat form and bounding back towards Duskhaven. I could only hope that we had enough time. 

I reached Gwen in no time, my heart pounding and my breath short. I quickly explained to her Liam’s order. 

“Liam is right.” She had said. “We must get everyone to higher ground. You must help me spread the word while I manage the logistics of the evacuation.” 

I nodded. “Who do I need to find?” 

“I need you to send word to Grandma Wahl. It's not going to be easy to get her to come with us. You must do whatever you can to convince her, though. You'll find her at the Wahl Cottage. Please, Riendeau, do not lose your patience with her. Her mind is old and she's not entirely lucid. You’ll also need to find the Hayward Brothers at the Hayward Fishery, it can be found far to the south. They don't make it to town very often, except to trade their fish. Send word to them that the evacuation is underway. Lastly I need you to speak to Lorna Crowley at the Crowley Orchard. Do you…? Of course you remember Lord Darius Crowley's daughter, Lorna. She never quite recovered after losing her father in Gilneas City. She's basically led the life of a hermit. The only visitor she's allowed into her house has been Krennan... and he won't say a word about the whole thing. Send word to her about the evacuation. Got it? Good, now go! We don’t have much time!” 

With a sharp nod and a quick turn, I shifted into my cat form and bounded off into the rainy night. 

I made good time I think. Lorna was a hair’s breath away from shooting me before I told her who I was. She was conflicted, I could tell. On one hand, someone she knew, albeit not very well, had survived the attack on the Light’s Dawn Cathedral. On the other, I’m not her father. 

I told her of the evacuation. Told her to grab anything she absolutely needed and go to Duskhaven. While she did that I gathered up and many of the orchard’s horses as I could. Lorna then sent me back to Gwen, telling her that Lorna would be there shortly with her horses. Then I was off again. 

Grandma Wahl took a bit longer and if the situation weren’t so dire I would have laughed. However, the situation was dire and I may have been a little snippy with her, it didn’t help the fact that I could feel the beginnings of the next tremor. This one would destroy Duskhaven and the rest of the lower lands, I just knew it. I grabbed her book, spare set of clothes and packed them for her quickly. The cat was inside the house with Grandma Wahl, (thankfully, I really didn’t want to go cat hunting and then have to rescue it from one of the Forsaken) and I put him in a carrier case. She left soon after. 

I pushed myself hard to reach the Hayward brothers fishery and that’s where I hit another snag. There were dozens, I repeat, dozens of Forsaken troops trying to kill the Haywards. I don’t know what… what possessed me to do this. Perhaps it was the stress of the whole situation, perhaps I was just simply done with the Forsaken threatening my people. I pulled hard on my magic, willing the very earth to work with me. Thick, thorny roots burst forth and I entangled all of the Forsaken troops there and then I dragged them down, down under the earth and I could feel my roots kill them. All of them. And I felt… Nothing. 

I felt them die. I killed them. Is it this easy to disregard my morals? I mean… It didn’t feel good; I certainly wasn’t jumping for joy or was pleased with myself; but at the same time I wasn’t too upset about it either, I didn’t linger on the fact that I killed upwards of thirty people. I just felt… Nothing… Perhaps that’s what makes it so much worse. 

Just like the game the Hayward’s left by sea, they gave me a hearty pat on the back and wished me luck here and then they were gone. 

I didn’t linger either, I still had to report back to Gwen about Grandma Wahl and the Hayward brothers. 

I returned as if I was on autopilot and I was dimly aware of Gwen telling me to hop aboard and head to Greymane manor and to speak with the Queen. Thankfully I wasn’t the one to drive one of the coaches, one of the Watchmen (I think his name is Fred) had that honor. The ride didn’t last for long, ten minutes max, before we reached Greymane’s manor. I only snapped out of my musings when we were told to get off. 

My group entered the manor quickly, most of the Watchmen staying outside while the citizens frantically searched the home for their loved ones. There were supplies and cots taking up every available space but the Queen was unfazed by it all, ever cool and calm and I found myself relaxing because of this. 

I bowed low in greeting and introduced myself. 

She seemed to observe me before grasping my hands? Paws? Gently, “Riendeau. I've heard much about you. I understand you were crucial in my family's survival during the outbreak in Gilneas City.” I didn’t miss how the few guards indoors stiffened. 

“I—You honor me, Your Majesty, truly.” 

She smiled slightly and motioned to the stairs behind her, “You ought to speak to Genn. He's been locked up in his observatory ever since this ordeal started. I'm sure he's working on a plan for his people. He's a very stubborn individual.” 

“O-of course.” I bowed once again before making my upstairs and outside, the observatory tower looming before me. A thick fog had rolled in some time ago it seemed, it covered the sea and land in a thick white-grey blanket, muting everything it touched. 

Finally, I had reached the observation deck (one of the only places that seemed to be spared of fog) and found Greymane right where Her Majesty said he’d be. I gave a small cough to grab his attention before bowing politely, “You wished to speak with me, Your Majesty?” 

So Greymane turned and smiled to me, “There you are, Riendeau. I've been expecting you. I got word of your recovery and... wait -- do you feel that?” 

I had completely forgotten about the impending tremor. Thankfully (if I could be thankful about feeling like someone was stabbing me with a poisoned blade) I had remained conscious. I had dropped to my knees with a cry of pain. “Yeup, I felt that,” I groaned as Greymane looked me over. “This isn’t fun anymore.” 

Genn chuckled in agreement and helped me up. I think he was going to ask me if I was going to be alright, when a sharp intake of breath caught my attention. Greymane’s face was pained, his voice tight with grief. “Duskhaven… It is gone!” 

I looked out, Genn was right, Duskhaven was gone. And so were much of the lowlands as well. We were running of time, running out of room. 

Genn seemed to be thinking the same thing, it only got worse when we spotted another Forsaken fleet and a Horde airship. “We have no choice, Riendeau. We must move further inland. I don't like it one bit, but we're vulnerable here. Return to the stables below the manor. Let's get everybody on carriages and send them eastbound. I pray it's not too late.” 

We moved again, further inland this time, towards the abandoned town of Stormglen, where I am now. 

We passed through the King’s Gate and over one of the many stone arches that litter Gilneas. On the final stretch to Stormglen that was when we got attacked. Not by the Forsaken, no it was the local ogre tribe. Liam’s carriage had been turned over, my carriage had slowed down slightly, allowing for me to jump off without serious injury. 

“Thank you for stopping, Riendeau. Our carriage got hit pretty bad. The one in front of us got it worse. The ogres got two of our stagecoaches. This one and the one that fell into the marsh just north of here. I want you to head there and rescue any survivors while we hatch up a plan to deal with these ogres.” 

I nodded quickly before heading off. Time was of the essence with a crash like this. 

I heard the survivors before I saw them, they were huddled together in a group of about six or seven, fighting off crocodiles with anything they could use. I charged, blasting the beasts with a mixture of Moonfire and Wrath, hoping to scare them off rather than kill them. Some had scurried away; others were not so fortunate. 

The survivors, however, were bloodied and bruised. I healed the worst of the injuries and wrapped the rest before escorting my charges out of the marsh. The road to Stormglen was still clear so Liam sent them on their way before turning to me. 

He grinned at me. It wasn’t a nice grin either… It was impish with a side order of a promised ass whooping. “The Forsaken are right on our heels and now these ogres are trying to flank us, Riendeau. They're servants of the ettin Koroth -- the meanest, most destructive force in all of Gilneas. If we can bait Koroth into charging the Forsaken's forward force, we should be able to cover our retreat and buy some time. The only way this can work is if we make Koroth furious. It won't be enough to just kill his minions. We need to swipe his most prized possession, a tiger-skinned banner.” Oh boy. 

Liam wasn’t kidding though when he said that the Forsaken were right on our heel. It was the only plan we had, unfortunately. 

I was displeased with this idea. Sure the ogres had attacked us but that… *sigh* Long story short I guess is that I killed a fair number of the ettin’s minions before swiping his nasty-ass banner. The Forsaken came ready to wreck our shit and instead the ettin wrecked them. Lesson of the day: Liam’s a sweet guy, but when he fights, he fights dirty. 

And here we are now… It’s late, I’m very tired but I really wanted to get all of that down. Until next time.


	18. Battle Arc: BfG, Entry 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuck spiders  
> Oh wait  
> More tag ideas >:)

**Battle for Gilneas, Entry 4**

Fuck me and my life. 

Just fuck. 

Fuck! 

Why? Why did it have to be spiders?! OF ALL THE NIGHTMAREISH CREATURES 

WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE SPIDERS!!! 

I want to die. 

I really do. 

THEY ARE THE SIZE OF FUCKING DOGS. LIKE THE MASTIVES. THAT SIZE. 

FUCK ME. 

NO ONE IS IMPRESSED. GWEN IS GIVING ME THE ARE-U- FUCKING- 

KIDDING-ME- LOOK. LORNA JUST LOOKS AT ME WITH PITY/HOW-THE- FUCK-ARE- 

U-STILL- EVEN-ALIVE- RIGHT-NOW AND SHAND’DO GIVES NO FUCKS AND SOME 

OF THE ASSHOLE WARRIOR TRAINEES ARE MAKING FUN OF ME AGAIN. Fuckers. 

FUCK. 

I hate spiders. 

To me there is nothing scarier in this –or any other—world, than spiders. 

Fuck ‘em I say and there is no damn way in Hell I’m going within a hundred-foot radius of those demon spawns. Ha! No, when Gwen asked me to go kill them I got the fuck outta there. 

No. 

I’m not doing it. 

Jack can. OR the Missing-but- Has-Since- Returned-Warrior- Assholes can. But like fucking Hell I’m not. 

I’m hiding with the shifty rouge trainer right now, gave me a few tips on how to shadow-meld both in my worgen form and my cat form. Handy for hiding and writing at the same time. 

Yay. 

Gwen’s sent Jack out to look for me. Fuck. I need to move again soon before he picks up my sce— 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

I swear I must have done something in a past life to piss off the Universe because it seems to enjoy shiting on me whenever it gets the chance. 

Jack found me. Which is not surprising in the least… He was a hunter after all. 

But because he found me he’s decided to drag me deeper into Stormglen to kick some spider ass per Gwen’s request (read: order) … 

This is not going to end well. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Well that went as well as I expected. The minute Jack and I got within twenty feet of the first dog-sized spider I… This is so humiliating… I … Fainted… 

But first I screamed, then began to sob hysterically then I just… Fainted… 

I can deal with killing things, I can deal being turned into a monster, I can deal being hunted down by an army; but I can’t deal with fucking spiders. 

Let this be a lesson to all! Do not force someone who is hysterically afraid of something to face said fear. At least not until they are ready. For me, that day will never come unfortunately. Thanks Gwen.


	19. Battle Arc: BfG, Entry 5

**Battle for Gilneas, Entry 5**

Gwen has apologized to me… Finally. She had no idea that someone could be so afraid of something, let alone faint from it. Childhood trauma I told her and left it at that. So in continuing with her apology she has Jack and one the Warriors tagging alone to help him kill the local Spider Queen *shivers* Thank the Spirits. 

I, on the other hand, was tasked with hunting around for some loose leaf pages of another journal that Lorna found, someone by the name of Bradshaw, telling of what happened here in Stormglen. Lorna hopes that finding the last few pages of the journal will tell us of any other survivors. It was a pretty simple mission and I was able to ignore the giant dead spider carcasses that Jack and the warrior had left behind. In total I had found nearly a dozen sopping wet journal pages that I was able to hand off to Lorna. Hopefully they’ll have some news of any other survivors. 

Now it’s only a matter of time before— 

Oh good Jack’s back as is that warrior and only looking a little worse for wear. Be right back. 

Back! Jack had a few bumps and cuts under his armor that I didn’t notice, those had to be cleaned and bandaged. The warrior on the other hand was a little worse off, the Spider Queen had managed to get a few good hits on the poor lad and so Shand’do and I had spent the last two hours healing any internal and external injuries that he may have suffered. I just wanted to get this written before I bed down for a few hours. Lorna believes that she will have all of the journal pages deciphered by the time I wake up next. 

I’ll write more if there is any news.


	20. Battle Arc: BfG, Entry 6

**Battle for Gilneas, Entry 6**

Oh sweet Spirits what a day. When I woke up from my nap Lorna, true to her word, was able to finish deciphering the last few pages of Bradshaw’s journal. 

“It took a while,” She told me. “But I think I've put together what happened here. At least partially. There were survivors of the Curse in this town. They've joined others in the mountains, in Tempest's Reach. Everyone left, except the man who kept the journal, old man Bradshaw. He noticed that the worgen attacks stopped all of a sudden and decided to venture into the Blackwald. There is an abandoned mill just northeast of town, it was where Bradshaw lived. See if you can find any clues there.” 

First: Thank goodness. I think the news that there were other survivors that managed to get away had really lifted people’s spirits (I know it has for me) and that there is another safe place that we can go to should we need it is a huge relief. I overheard Liam saying that he would send some runners to Tempest’s Reach to establish some communication between our two camps. 

That leads me into my next thing. The mill, where Bradshaw lives? Burned to the ground. I was afraid that I’d have to leave empty handed. That’s when I caught a glimpse of her and I… Wow… A Night Elf an honest to Gods Night Elf. 

She smiled gently when she saw me, wide eyed and jaw on the ground. “Greetings, I've been expecting you, Riendeau. Do not be alarmed.” Hard not to be, when she knew my name. “My name is Belrysa. I am a Priestess of the Moon... a Night Elf. You might not know my people, but the destinies of our two races have been linked since the Curse befell you.” 

Distantly I thought that the game did not do Belrysa and her people justice. She was just more… There. Real? Her form seemed to take up more space within the dilapidated mill, despite being several inches shorter than I was and probably about one hundred pounds lighter. Maybe that was because she’s a Priestess of Elune? 

Regardless she continued on. “You must have many questions, Riendeau.” Yeah I do, for starters how the hell do you know my name? “And they will be answered in time. I know why you're here and what you're looking for. I can't lead you there with the enemy tracking you. One of Sylvanas's scouts has been following your movements. You can't lead the Forsaken to the place you seek. Take this talisman and walk along the road just north of here.” She handed me the talisman, a trinket really, carved to the likeness of her Goddess, Elune. “Let the ranger lure you to her trap and use the power of the talisman to break free and counterattack.” 

I ran around the side of the mill to the road to the north and got about three feet when the Ranger struck. Ice encapsulated my body. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t speak. The world around me became muffled and cold. 

“Such easy prey. Sylvanas will be most pleased!” She drew her bow and the panic… The surge of fear that ran through my body must have activated the talisman. The ice burst apart, on my knees now I was gasping for breath. Shocked, the Dark Ranger could only stare at me. I called upon the roots to tangle her, giving her no time to recover I dragged her down under the earth. Just like the foot soldiers I had dispatched, just like now, I felt her life-force flicker out. 

I stayed there for a while before stumbling back to Belrysa. She seemed pleased, almost to pleased, that I had taken out the Dark Ranger so brutally and efficiently. That face slid away and replacing it was the serene face of a Priestess. 

“There are others like you, Riendeau. And they too, were lost and confused. There is a place where you belong. Tal'doren, the wild home, was once home to an order of druids who took the shape of wolves. It is there that you will find the answers you seek. It is also there that you will find someone who can offer guidance. An old friend.” 

I did not know who she was referring to at the time. Old friend? Doubtful. 

Regardless I made my way to Tal’doren in my cat form, shadowed, unseen, even by the banshee spectral that haunted our land. 

Once I got past them the rest of my short journey was completely uneventful… With the exception of actually seeing Tal’doren. 

The tree it’s self was massive, the whole thing was covered in black bark and large roots covered in blood red thorns. There was a Moonwell too. Fused to the tree, the shining blue waters cascaded down and around Tal’doren, casting it in a beautiful blue glow. The inside was hollow and resembled a large cavern, one that you’d find in a cave. That was where I found them, dozens upon dozens of other worgen, just like me. I felt… I still feel, at ease. Surrounded by my own kind. 

My pack. 

Remember that ‘Old Friend’ Belrysa mentioned? Not three steps into this wonderful place I’m swept off my feet into a bone-crushing hug. 

“You're all right, Riendeau! I've been waiting for this day for a long time, it truly is great to see you lass.” My ‘attacker’ said, before he set me down. 

I gasped, Crowley. Crowley was alive. “C-Crowley? How--? Your alive!” 

He smiled, “Aye, I've heard of what you've done and I'm thankful... especially for Lorna -- she's all I have left. I will send for her right away. But first, there are some I want you to meet.” 

We walked deeper into Tal’doren, Crowley told me about this place, about the Night Elves, the Druids of the Pack, that allowed to become more beast than man, that they were banished to the Emerald Dream where they sleep for eternity under another Tal’doren and that, unfortunately, the spread of their curse was not stopped in time. But the reason that the Forsaken are here are not just for our lands. The Scythe of Elune, an ancient Druidic artifact of the Night Elves holds sway over all Worgen. Crowley’s spies report that the Forsaken plan to use the scythe to spread the Worgen curse to the rest of humanity. 

That cannot be allowed to happen. 

“What can I do, Crowley?” 

“First I ask that you clear the way for us, as I’m sure you’ve noticed Sylvanas’ banshees have taken up residence nearby. Get rid of as many as you can.” 

I nodded, “Can do.” 

“Excuse me, young druid.” 

I paused mid-step, turning I found another Night Elf a few paces behind me. She too, was a druid. “My name is Vassandra Stormclaw, I was hoping that while you were out clearing the way for your brethren that you would consider doing something for me as well.” 

I faced her fully now. “Of course,” I said with a small bow. “You and your people have already helped us, I would be honored to help you in return.” 

“It is not only for your benefit, but for the benefit of all Worgen.” Now that got my attention. “The Moonleaf, a simple plant that grow by Elune’s grace, will help your mind understand the need for balance and your soul will permanently earn mastery over the beast. Today our ceremony will restore balance to your people. Bring me the leaf that grows only in Tal'doren's vicinity.” 

“It will be done,” I turned to Crowley. “I will return.” 

“Light be with you, Riendeau.” 

“And with you Crowley.” 

Off I went, it didn’t take me long to gather the Moonleaves nor dispatch the dozen or so banshee littering the area. With that done I returned to Tal’doren. I gave the leaves to Vassandra first, she told me that it would take some time for the ceremony to get ready so I left to go find Crowley. 

“You are as good as I remember, Riendeau.” Crowley told me with a laugh. “It is good to have you back. Now,” His face tightened. “Ever since the Forsaken invaded Gilneas, we've tried to keep the location of the Scythe of Elune secret. We moved it at night to one of many safe locations. The Dark Rangers got close, but never found it... until now. 

They were last spotted at the Woods' End Cabin, west of here. Blow this horn when you find them and Tobias and his trackers will engage the Dark Rangers. Only then will it be safe for you to venture inside the cabin and take back the scythe. Hurry, Riendeau. It must not reach Sylvanas.” 

I took the horn, calm and collected and unafraid. “I won’t fail you Crowley. You have my word.” 

After that I was off again. I shifted into my cat form as soon as I left Tal’doren and stuck to the shadows. Five fast/slow minutes later I found the wood cutter’s cabin with Dark Rangers crawling all over, ducking behind a tree I shifted back and blew the horn. The sound echoed violently through the forest and for a moment I thought Tobias wouldn’t come, that my location would be discovered and that I would be killed on the spot. 

Only seconds after I thought this did Tobias leap from the trees, sharp daggers in hand, his warhowl echoing through the clearing and a snarl on his lips, “Keep them occupied, my brothers! Allow Riendeau time to retrieve the scythe!” 

With a furious roar Tobias and his Trackers engaged Sylvanas’ Dark Rangers and I took that opportunity to slip inside while no one was looking. 

I tore through the house looking for the scythe, eventually finding it hidden inside an ornate box that was shoved under the bed. Grabbing it I made like Hell’s bells to the tree line, Tobias right on my heels calling for a retreat. 

We returned in good time and I handed the scythe over to Vassandra, who passed it onto the only male druid of their group. 

She smiled, “Thank you, Riendeau. Without you the Scythe would have been lost to us forever.” She looked to her companions, both of whom gave her a nod in return. “It is time, Riendeau, to drink from the waters of Tal’doren and make peace with yourself.” 

I went to the male druid first, Talran I’ve since learned, and drank quickly. 

“Let the Scythe unbind that which was not meant to be bound! Let the soul master the beast, lest the beast master the soul!” 

I felt a shift, a tempering of my impulses as a white ethereal light surrounded me. 

In a daze a moved onto the next Well, Vassandra’s, and drank. 

“Just as Dral'nir soothes the cursed druids who gave into the beast and abandoned balance, let Tal'doren soothe Riendeau.” 

I felt peace, perhaps for the first time in years, warm me from my core. The white light surrounded me again and I wondered if Elune had something to do with it. 

I moved onto the last druid and drank from her Well as well. 

“Just as Goldrinn's spirit once blessed our druids, let Riendeau be blessed with the wisdom of his race and the ferocity of the wolf god.” 

Goldrinn was there. Judging me. I felt him. His fury. But it was tempered, used only to protect those who were weaker than myself, who could not defend themselves. I was to act as he would. Protect them, protect the world. 

I stumbled away from the Wells as others sought to bring balance to themselves. Crowley was there, leading me along after I nearly face-planted onto the ground. Sitting me down he made sure I had some water before drinking from the Wells himself. 

It’s been a few hours since then and everyone has since drunk from the Wells. I wond— 

Lorna! 

Lorna’s here! And oh she looks so pissed. Yikes I feel a little bad for Crowley now. 

They hug and there are some sli— 

Oh great Godfrey’s here too. Well I’m on dictation notice. 

Shall I make it eloquent? Ah screw it. It’ll go to fast. I can always rewrite it later. 

Godfrey: *red faced* Crowley! You and your elven allies are hereby ordered to serve along the king's army. Cursed or not, you are still bound by Gilnean law! 

_Enter Greymane_

Crowley: *growls* *Gamma challenging an Alpha* Does this toad speak for you, Genn? Do you come to our dwelling as a friend? Or do you come as a tyrant? 

Greymane: No, old friend. I've come to you as an equal. 

_Greymane changes into his worgen form. Everyone proceeds to lose their shit._

Godfrey: *Shocked* Impossible! 

Crowley: *eyes Genn* Aye, Genn. It is not law that binds us. It is something far stronger. My men are ready to give their lives under your command. 

Greymane: *seems to be an understanding between the two Alphas* It is decided, then. We will unite all Gilneans and drive the Forsaken from our lands. 

Godfrey sputtered a bit before sodding off. Good riddance, I say. Bigot can take a flying leap off the nearest cliff. 


	21. Battle Arc: BfG, Entry 7

**Battle for Gilneas, Entry 7**

I don’t believe it. I doN’T FUCKING BELIEVE HIM THAT LITTLE FUCKER GODFREY! 

Should’ve known he’d do something like this, now I’ve gotta go kick his fucking ass. 

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH 

LITTLE FUCKING FUCK 

(Continuing) 

I… I don’t know what to say. It-it’s been one hell of a day. 

I mean, it started out good! I left for Stormglen to tell Gwen that it was safe to move through the Blackwald to Tempest’s Reach, Crowley and his pack would watch our backs while His Majesty and Krennan went ahead to make sure it was safe. Lo and behold, when I caught up to Krennan, there was trouble. 

Godfrey had taken Greymane. I’m getting angry again just thinking about it. 

What was Godfrey thinking? We’re in the middle of a fucking war! There isn’t time for grudges and bigotry, save it for later. Spirits! Time is not on our side and Godfrey just had to go and make things even more difficult for us! 

Unfortunately, Godfrey had managed to convince Ashbury and Walden to go along with his plan of striking a deal with the Forsaken. Greymane for peace. 

As if. 

No. This had to be stopped before it got worse (as if it could get any worse… Hello Murphy’s Law in the making…). Krennan asked me to take care of the eastern lords with as little blood-shed as possible. 

Godfrey had a lot to answer for. Instead though, he jumps to his death. Like a fucking coward. How could he do that? Turn on his king? His people? I understand the desperation to save our people, logically I even understood his reasoning, but if we do not stand together we will all be whipped out. Genn, me, everyone. Including Godfrey. Sylvanas wouldn’t let any of us live. 

They didn’t… Walden and Ashbury… I feel like they didn’t need to die. No, I’m sure they didn’t need to die. Was there a third option? A way to resolve this without violence? I… I don’t know. Probably. 

But… 

What would have happened to Genn if I hadn’t acted when I did? 

What would have happened to us, to Gilneas, if we let Godfrey continue? 

Nothing good… I imagine. 

The civilians are starting to trickle into the Reach and I’ll be off soon. Greymane’s asked me to speak with Lord Hewell and then travel to Livery Outpost and meet up with Lorna. 

Will write more later. 


	22. Battle Arc: BfG, Entry 8

**Battle for Gilneas, Entry 8**

I’m at Livery Outpost, just outside of Emberstone. The Forsaken have set up operations there as well as the local mine. The villagers are being used as slave labor and it falls to me to free them. The current plan is for a portion of the remaining City Watch and some of Crowley’s Pack to attack the Forsaken in the village of Emberstone, effectively drawing the troop’s attention there, while a small team goes in and frees the mine. 

This is too big for me to handle alone though, I’ve scouted the area from the air in my Stormcrow form (I can’t believe I forgot to mention that!) and have picked out a small unit that I will be leading: 

I’m going as the healer/ leader. 

There’s a rogue by the name of Exya that can pick locks and will act as our scout. 

Jack, to hold the entrance of the mine while we rescue the prisoners. 

And last, but not least, Harold the Warrior. He’ll be helping Exya and I take down Brothogg the Slavedriver in the inmost chamber of the mine. 

This’ll probably be the last entry I write for a while as I imagine that things will really start to pick up. Especially with the commotion of Emberstone effectively spitting in Sylvanas’ face. It’s nothing big, but it’s enough to piss her off. 

Jack’s waving me over, looks like Exya’s back with the ground report. 

Wish us luck. We’re going to need it…


	23. Running Arc: To Teldrassil, Entry 1

**Ten Days on a Boat, with Nothing to Do, the Druid gets Drunk and Finally Wake Up on the Evening of Day Two**

I am forever thankful that I can’t get sea sick, otherwise this would be a shit way to wake up. I’m a little fuzzy on the details (getting shit-faced will do that to you) but I do remember a few bit and bobs… Sang the night away we did with a number of old sea shanties and rounds upon rounds of story-telling by lamplight. At one point I think I turned into a stag… Yeah Shand’do was not happy in the slightest now that I think about it… 

Spirits I am never drinking alcohol again; this hangover is the fucking worst. 

… I’m stuck between hysterical laughter at the fact that I’m alive, that many of the survivors had managed to survive and make it to the Night Elves’ ships, that I’m alive and that most of the people that I know are alive and Spirits I… I want to cry. I want to cry and rage and my heart aches for everyone that we lost, for the land that we lost, for our homes and families that are just… gone. 

Liam is dead. Killed by Slyvanas’ poisoned arrow that was meant for Greymane and I couldn’t! I couldn’t do a damn fucking thing about it! I couldn’t move! I couldn’t speak! I couldn’t do anything and I should have done more! 

And everything hurts and I wanna go home and… and … 

I’m just… Tired… I’m just so fucking tired and so is everyone else but no one can sleep. Not when we remember… I… I want to… But I can’t. Not now, not yet… Tomorrow I think. Tomorrow I’ll write.


	24. Running Arc: To Teldrassil, Entry 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *J.R.R Tolkien, The Two Towers  
> Also I know it peters off at the end there, it's supposed to because of the sheer volume of information that, to be honest with ya'll, I have neither the time nor the patience to write it all out. It will, however, be referenced now and again. Seeing as how our heroine was the only one continuously transcribing the events that occurred. So there's that.  
> I'll be sure to put an * or two and reference this chapter as well :)

**Ignoring What Happened, Day Three on a Boat**

My memory was never great to begin with, add turning into a rampaging monster with no coherent thoughts for a month and you get an ass load of amnesia. Or… Scrambled memories? There was a point to this. 

Oh, right. Boat. 

I couldn’t stand staying below deck even for another minute. Too dark. Too crowded. 

I’m not sure how/why/when it happened but whoever created Warcraft got a lot of things right… and a lot of things wrong but that’s a whole other can of worms. 

Things that are right, though: 

Night Elf ships for one thing. Long and low to the water, purple sails the whole she-bang. They are a lot bigger though, like an actual ship and not… You couldn’t go below deck in game and there’s about a dozen plus crew instead of the five or six NPCs. 

Captain, sorry, Admiral Nightwind is an interesting man and is great company. He’s also who I’m hanging out with right now, seeing as anywhere else I hunker down to write is met with understandably irate deck-hands telling me to move it. 

Anyways, Nightwind. From what I’ve gathered he’s been around for a while. Since the War of the Ancients a while. Yeah. He’s seen a lot. Knows a lot too. So I guess he could tell that (the collective) we were still reeling from the Curse and then the Forsaken’s attacks. 

“War,” He said. “Must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.*” A pause. “There is no shame for the grief you feel, Riendeau. Both for the brothers you lost and for the enemies you have slain; because that is what makes you who you are: A fierce soul that would rather use words rather than steel. Use your words, druid, when the next opportunity presents itself.” 

What do I remember? What do I remember from my life before the Curse, before I came to Azeroth? Blurred faces and disjointed names, sights and sounds I should know that can’t name, places where I’ve spent my whole life but can’t recall. 

But here I am, creating new memories born of fear and panic and grief, pushing out who I was for what I am becoming. And for what? To adapt? Into what? A stone cold warrior? Incapable of feeling? 

I don’t… Want that. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

We took back the city in the final assault, plowing through Forsaken soldiers and abominations like a hot knife through butter…


	25. Running Arc: To Teldrassil, Entry 3

**Evening of Day Four and I Find That I am Slightly Useful**

What better way to spend the day than delivering messages to the other ships in the Admiral’s fleet? Nothing, that’s what! Seriously, I’ve been having the time of my life, being able to fly without a care in the world! It’s great! 

So run down as to why I was playing messenger girl again: 

During the War of the Ancients, when the Burning Legion first invaded Azeroth, it was Elven mages that slapped a big ol’ sign that said “MAGIC COME GET YOUR MAGIC HERE!!!” in big neon colors. It’s because of this that Night Elves, as a whole, are distrustful of mages, downright hostile even! 

But _normally_ , when the Alliance calls the “collective fleet” together there are mages on every other--- I’m not explaining this well. 

Okay, the Collective Fleet is say… 50 ships. There is the King’s Flag ship, consisting of about twenty other ships in formation, with one mage. There are other groups of fives and tens each also with one mage. The whole fleet, close enough in their little groups, are, perhaps, too far away from each other to use traditional signals; instead they use the magi to communicate/strategist/etc, keeping the whole of the fleet informed and as one mind towards whatever destination/goal was set forth. 

Because it was the Night Elves and _only_ the NE that came to our aid that they do not have any of these magi to help the fleet with solid communication. 

That’s where I come in! Since I am able to take the form of the Stormcrow, I’m able to ferry messages back and forth between the Admiral’s fleet, which only consists of about seven boats Nightwind told me. 

… That and Nightwind told me that they didn’t have enough time to send a request to Dalaran for a mage rental. 


	26. Running Arc: To Teldrassil, Entry 4

**Evening on Day Six and I Think I May Puke**

So, show of hands, how many of you at home have ever tried to write/draw while in a moving car? Well, try writing in a boat. Out at sea. In the middle of a fucking hurricane. Damn near impossible! But, it is because of my dedication to the cause of documenting my time here on Azeroth that may or may not be my ultimate demise, that I will write through whatever nature throws at me… 

Still doesn’t make me any less nervous… 

Yesterday, Nightwind had Shand’do and I round up the rest of the fleet, “Storms’ heading straight towards us, we would be overtaken long before we reached Ratchet.” A questioning look from one of the more ship-savvy worgen bade him to elaborate on the “neutral” Goblin-run port-town. “Ratchet, on Kalimdor’s central east coast, is run by goblins and shows it. Its streets sprawl in every direction, and the architecture shows no consistency or common vision. It is a city of entertainment and trade, where anything that anyone would ever want to buy — and plenty of things that no one ever wants to buy — is on sale. Casinos, playhouses, brothels, fine restaurants, taverns, tearooms, gladiatorial arenas… Ratchet has it all. From the grungiest sailor to the wealthiest royalty, all can sate their tastes in Ratchet. Ratchet is Kalimdor’s largest port, and ships commonly stop here on their way elsewhere. Pirate vessels receive amnesty in Ratchet’s waters, bringing an influx of the disreputable and violent.” Nightwind’s lips curled in disgust, seems like pirates aren’t his favorite kind of people. “Indeed, Ratchet is a hotspot, as races of all types and members of all socioeconomic strata rub shoulders in the bazaars. Goblin watchmen are quick to put down conflict and make sure the inhabitants all play nice with each other. The city never stops. Its lights are on, its shops open and its services available at any time of day or night. One can also hire transport in Ratchet, traveling via caravan, ship, zeppelin or more exotic means. Everything in Ratchet has a price, of course.* Avoid going there if you can help it.” 

Charming. 

So Shand’do and I got the fleet back together, the formation is tight and at the ready. Ready to plow through that is. 

That man is crazy, I swear it. 

So that concludes **Day Five on a Boat, Did Some More Flying Too**

On to today. 

Nightwind was correct, there was a storm heading our way. We reached it’s outer fringes sometime early afternoon, around two, maybe. It’s probably around… Jack’s dead to the world (some kind of herbal mixture Shand’do gave him, lucky bastard) and no-one else has a single clue so I’m going to say around… Seven, maybe eight in the evening. Hard to tell since all the water in the universe seems to be coming down around our heads. 

Fun times. 

Fuck this. I’m going to bed.


	27. Running Arc: To Teldrassil, Entry 5

**Just… It’s Some Fuckin Day Alright? And the Admiral is Bat-Shit Insane**

It’s cold as all hell here in the hold. Everyone is wet and huddled together trying to eak out something akin to normal body temperature, so we’re going at it penguin-style; i.e: youngest in the middle while the eldest on the outskirts. 

Okay so maybe not how penguins do it, but Shand’do, Jack (Jack’s awake now btw… although he doesn’t look long for the world, looks like Shand’do gave him some of the sleeping draught again) and the warrior trainer (what was his name again) insisted that the youngest of us get tucked into the center. 

It’s… 

It’s sweet, don’t get me wrong, and it’s definitely working (I’m only just shy of teeth-chattering cold as opposed to bone-ache-in-the-middle-of-winter cold). 

It’s just… Everyone smells like wet dog, myself included. I hate wet dog smell. It’s so trivial too! I should just ignore it! 

And I would, only as a worgen my sense of smell is several times better than that of a human’s (trust me on that) but _still_ , it’s _there_ and I can _smell_ it and it won't _go away_. 

I’m losing my Goddamned mind in the wooden tub. I need air, fresh air! And some room to move would be nice! 

It would also be nice if the Admiral and his crew weren’t hootin’ and hollerin’ at all hours of the day and night, throwing insults to the wind and laughing at the sea. You want to know who does that? Crazy People! 

No, no please. Don’t think about us poor civilians, whom you swore you would take to Teldrassil whole and hale, just continue to tempt the Universe into screwing up everything! 

Hark look over on yonder 'rizen! Who is that I see? Ah! Tis my old friend, Murphy Law! 

[insert exasperated, but slightly-amused sigh here] 

I’m going to sleep again, maybe beg Shand’do for some of that draught so I can be put out of my misery. Wish me luck. 

I gOt thE FUCkiNG sLEEp mEDS lOL


	28. Running Arc: To Teldrassil, Entry 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I'm just going to say this right now, Rae is not the only one from Earth on Azeroth. There are others. Many, many others are there as well, hiding in plain sight. Watching over Azeroth in secret.  
> I'm giving hints guys.  
> There are currently two people I have dropped hints on :)

**There are No Words for the End of the Road**

We’re an hour out from Teldrassil, home of the Night Elves, and I have to write as fast as I can. 

I legitimately don’t know what I expected at the start of the voyage but this… This was and was not it. 

I have brief flashes of memory, of in-game Teldrassil, complete round and straight with branches jutting out every now and again. It looked stupid. An eyesore even! 

But this… This Teldrassil… It has curves and bends, a towering twisting truck filled to the brim with life, an expansive forest lives on Teldrassil’s mighty roots and thick tresses. Branches so tall that there are clouds trapped there. And the lights, oh the lights. A myriad of colors and sizes, the most prominent being the warm glow of fire-light in homes and hearths. There is the bright white-blue of the Wisps, the green of druid enclaves, and a soft violet of the town beacons, telling those in Darnassus that nothing amiss. 

“We will be docking in Rut'theran Village,” Nightwind told us. “And look, there, just above Rut’theran lies the small village of Dolanaar, and to the east lies Starbreeze Village, my home.” 

Shadowglen was hidden from our view, as was Darnassus, which sat higher in Teldrassil’s branches, at the crown of the world. 

And it’s… It’s barely even noticeable. I would have missed it if Shand’do had not stayed my hand… Teldrassil… Teldrassil had greeted us. 

It is --was-- an indescribable feeling… Like… 

It felt like the joy of seeing an old friend again, after you haven’t seen them for several years, but the friendship that the two of you share is too strong for time. 

It felt like a parent’s unconditional love, a grandparent’s calm temperament and soothing wisdom. 

It felt like home. 

And I couldn’t help myself when answered back with everything I had. And I swear by each and every God Teldrassil sang. 

Not… Not sang a song for all to hear but… it was an answer, a welcoming, a… A feeling, all wrapped up in a neat little package of Power and Teldrassil sang to Shand’do and I. 

I can feel Teldrassil from here, through the ocean and the breeze and time just seemed to slow down and speed up at the same time. The wind picks up. Nightwind says that Elune must be smiling upon he and his fleet and I don’t have the heart to tell him that it’s Teldrassil that is calling us home… Home. 

We can call Teldrassil home. 

I… I feel at peace, no. Not peace per se… Content I think is the word I’m looking for. 

We’ll be okay. 

Whatever happens next, I’ll be ready…

I’ve forgotten what hope feels like.


	29. Vigilance Arc: Teldrassil's New Roomies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit Arc Title 10/12/17  
> Hey everyone, so while I liked 'Healing Arc' not much healing has been done, so I'll be changing to something more suiting for now, i.e. why this arc is now called 'Vigilance'. :)

**Updates**

**Entry 1 of my Adventures in Teldrassil**

Teldrassil is beautiful, but Darnassus is absolutely breathtaking. The city is quiet, peaceful even, without the hustle and bustle of Gilneas or Stormwind (I guess), gracefully arching white stone and dark oaken bridges connect Darnassus together in a tangle of walkways. The whole city is open to the air, with the exception of the Temple of the Moon, which is beautifully crafted from the same white stone as the main gates of the city and its main bridge. The first thing one sees when passing through the portal from Rut'theran is the back side of the bank, its resemblance to an actual bear is uncanny. 

Um, anyways. 

The great stone bridge serves as the connection between Darnassus and the rest of Teldrassil. To the right side of the main bridge sits the Temple of the Moon, home to the High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind and the Sisterhood of Elune; and Tradesmen’s Terrace, identifiable by the deep purple roof tops. 

Opposing the Tradesmen’s Terrace sits the Craftsmen's Terrace, identifiable by the multitude of forest green roofs, with the Warrior’s Terrace nestled near by. The Cenarion Enclave sits adjacent to the Craftsmen’s Terrace and, just as the Temple of the Moon is the High Priestess’s seat of power, so too is the Cenarion Enclave for Archdruid Malfurion Stormrage and his druids. 

Shand’do and I have been invited to sit in with other mentors and students to learn from Shand’do Stormrage himself once we settle! I’m so excited! 

Getting sidetracked again… 

The Howling Oak rests just behind the Cenarion Enclave and the Craftsmen’s Terrace and has a faint resemblance to Tal’doren, gnarled roots wrapped haphazardly around the trunk with another Moonwell fused to the great tree as well. It was a little less macabre than Tal’doren, to be honest with you, but the pack was there and we’re now safe. That’s… that’s all I could ask for really. 

Although… I feel like something bad is about to happen again…


	30. Vigilance Arc: Teldrassil's Gay Nerd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t realize how the idea of “Oh damn, Rae’s Pan and Thinks That a lot of People are Stupidly Fucking Attractive” and “Oh Shit. It’s Malfurion-fucking-Stormrage and his super BA wife Tyrande Whisperwind, both of whom are *obviously* promenade characters in Wow lore” would turn into the stupid fucking chapter of bleh. I can’t really regret it tho. It was super fucking entertaining to write.  
> But thanks for slogging through that.  
> Uh, I mean, come on how many of you can honestly tell me that you wouldn’t fangirl just a little bit  
> … * Inspired from the time I met Alex Kingston (River Song aka Melody Pond) and Karen Gillan (Amy Pond) from Doctor Who at the 2015 Providence RI Comic Con I literally could not speak for the entire fucking time I had my photo taken with them. My Lady Kingston held my hand. It was amazing.

**WE’RE ALL HAVING A GAY OL’ TIME**

**Entry 2 of my Adventures in Teldrassil**

I’m just-- I don’t-- holy cow. 

I can’t even right now. 

Be still my queer little heart *fans self* 

So y’all may remember how I started to talk about what the developers at Blizzard got right and what they got wrong, yes? 

Like in-game Teldrassil looks like a poorly rendered log of poop or how the ships look like actual fucking ships or how NElf men don’t look so weird with their broad ass shoulders and tiny ass waist and awkwardly large hands? 

Yeah well. Misconceptions aside. 

Just ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh 

Malfurion and Tyrande are really fucking attractive okay? Like holy shit. They are so fucking attractive fuck fuck me and my gay ass God Damn son 

Just *bangs my head into the fucking wall* It’s times like these that I’m reminded that I’m not from Azeroth and that everything is very, very real --like being turned into a worgen didn’t clue me in already-- and that, wow, I’m just so fucked. Just. So fucked. 

Because Tyrande totally knows somethings up. Totally knows. She stared my dumbass down the entire fucking conversation with Genn. She didn’t look like she was looking at me, but she totally was. It’s those eyes. There’s no discernible iris or pupil that I can see. Like the entirety of her eyes is just a judgemental blaze of silver. 

Or maybe I’m just a paranoid shitlord who can’t talk to attractive people to save my life. 

Like. 

All Malfurion did was _smile_ at me and I was reduced to a puddle of goo. That’s how pathetic I am.* 

Maybe that was why Tyrande was giving me the side eye. 

Not because she knows my deep dark secret, but maybe it’s because I’m a fucking weird-o that could not scrape my jaw off the ground for the five seconds it would have taken not to seem like a total doofus to her Living Legend™ of a husband. 

Yeah. 

That’s it. 

Hopefully. 

Is it wrong to have a crush on a married man and his wife??? 

Probably. 

Jesus. 

Fuck this topic of conversation. 

I’ll revisit later when I’m not being a complete and total gaylord.


	31. Vigilance Arc: Time's Running Out

**The Things that Time Forgot, and I Figure Out the Fucking Date Entry 3 of my Adventures in Teldrassil, Day 112 or 04/03/XXXX**

  * Jack mentioned that I was out for about a fortnight aka 2 weeks aka fourteen days
  * I spent… 10 days acclimating to my situation in Gilneas

_Current Total: 24 days ___

__
  * I spent about three weeks or 21 days, training with Shand’do
__

_Current Total: 45 days ___

__
  * Asking around revealed that, from start to when I turned, was about two ~~and a half days~~
__

_Current Total: 47 ~~½ days~~ ___

__
  * After that no one was able to start tracking me until after about two weeks had passed, 16 days was the rough estimate Blake gave me. 
__

_Current Total: 63 days ___

__
  * Nearly another 2 weeks passed until they were able to actually capture me (apparently I was pretty damn elusive)
__

_Current Total: 77 days ___

__
  * Then there were those two weeks of blissful nothingness… 
__

_Current Total: 91 days ___

__
  * And I want to say it was about a week and a half that Sylvanas and the goon squad chased us over the whole of Gilneas… Yeah, cause it takes about 10 days to sail from Teldrassil to Gilneas… Well more like eight days because of the Malestorm’s winds… and… 8 days
__

_Current Total: 99 days ___

__
  * Now the ride back was 10 days. Yes. This is correct.
__

_Current Total: 109 ___

__
  * And I’ve been in Darnassus, counting this entry, three days
__ _**Grand Total: 112 day or 3 and a half? months**_

Wow… That long huh? It didn’t seem like a long time, honestly. Time flies when you’re having ‘fun’, huh… Okay, yeah, wow, that was bad even by my standards. 

But I guess what I don’t get is, geeze 

_When I am._

Because the date that I know, at least, the one that stood out most prominently to me was that it was nearly Easter of 2016. Easter. Of _2016_. That’s four years after Cata came out. 

I, effectively, went back in time. Except for the fact that I have no fucking clue what the standard date is. 

Like 

It looks almost like Earth timekeeping. A minute is 60 seconds and there are 60 minutes to an hour and there are 24 hours in a day and the week is a 7 day week but other than that? I have no flipping clue what month it is or it’s approximate translation to Earth months. 

My best guess is that, if Cata released on December 12, 2012, then the date is roughly… End of March? Beginning of April??? But they aren’t called that here??? It’s just the third or fourth month of the year??? Fuck if I know man. 

It’s just really frustrating? 

*sighs into the beyond*

List of Things to Do:



  1. ~~Tell Shand’do Stormrage and High Priestess Tyrande about my situation???~~ List of things that I remember ie current events 
  2. ~~List of things that I remember ie current events~~ Tell Shand’do Stormrage and High Priestess Tyrande about my situation??? 
  3. Give Velen my journal in the event that they don’t. 
  4. Tell Genn oh fuck am I not looking forward to that... 
  5. List of future events??? 
  6. Pray??? 



Cata major events:

  * Deathwing aka Netharion?? (is that his fucking name idk) aka the Black Dragon Aspect and the Earth Warder, breaks free


  * The world is torn asunder



Area’s affective and the results of it:

_Kalimdor_

  * Teldrassil: 

Rut'theran village, destroyed docks

  * Darkshore: 

The town that was there, what was it’s name: completely decimated in the resulting tidal waves 

Giant fucking tornado fuck

  * Thousand Needles

Underwater

  * The Barrens Holy shit

Split into two by a giant fucking lava canyon Unnaturally fast growth is the Southern Barrens??

  * Ashenvale:

Fucking volcano fuck

  * Durotar:

Flooded to all fuck

_Eastern Kingdoms:_

  * Silverpine Forest/Gilneas:

Well we all know how that went

  * The Plaguelands probably maybe
  * Wetlands:

I think they got flooded to hell too????




Well… Those are all the places that I remember… To an extent… Was there something up with Nordrassil or..? Perhaps. I’ll ask Shand’do…. 

Did Mists of Pandaria come first or Warlords…? 

Mists. Yeah. 

I didn’t spend a lot of time there to be honest. By the time I got back into Warcraft Mists was winding down and Warlords had taken center stage… I think I got through… Two zones? Before I succumbed to the call of New! Draenor and the temptation of punching that cunt Gul’dan in the face. 

Ehhhhh 

AU!Velen died in Warlords. Will that happen again here or? God that was so fucking sad. I cried. I cried really hard. 

Garrosh goes back like… thirty years in the past to AU!Draenor and riles up the clans… And he makes sure that Grom doesn’t drink from the demon kool aid. 

Doomhammer dies??? During something… Idk. 

Anduin gets crushed by a bell but lives. That’s Mists. Shit. 

Khadgar makes an appearance. Maybe I should talk to him about my situation. Something to think about. 

Oh! 

List of Leaders I would trust with this information: 

_Alliance:_

  * Tyrande 
  * Malfurion
  * Velen (definitely) 
  * Genn

I definitely wouldn’t trust Bronzebeard’s daughter with her affiliation with the Dark Irons and all. 

Wrynn is a big no no. Anduin yes. Varian no. 

And I don’t know the Gnome leader well enough to judge his reaction. 

_Horde:_

      * Go’el/Thrall, he’s cool
      * Aggra, although she’s mag’ar and probs doesn’t like the Alliance very much, but she seems like the type to at least listen before passing judgement.
      * Vol’jin, only because he’d be Warchief after Thrall Go’el
      * Bain Bloodhoof 

Garrosh is a big no no. And a cunt of epic proportions. 

Might be racist but Gallywix is a goblin so no. 

Sylvanas… ehhhhhhhh…. Maybe. Big fucking maybe. She did lay siege to Gilneas and kill Liam but… 

Blood Elf leader… Whose name I do not know. No. Since I have no recollection of his temperament. I think he’s a mage tho. 

Jaina Proudmoore maybe. I think she goes a little around the bend. Because of… of… fuck. 

I wish I had the first part of my journal. 

In other news. Rumors abound that a summit for Gilneas’ readmission into the Alliance will take place soon. Hopefully. 





	32. Vigilance Arc: Making Plans

**Up Shit Creek and I don’t have a Paddle**

**Entry 4 of my Adventures in Teldrassil, Day 113 or 04/04/XXXX**

Not going to be a terribly long entry methinks, but I need a moment. 

Greymane approached me, asked if I could give my journal over to a historian by the name of Thydryn Silverlance to transcribe what had happened during the invasion and subsequent battle with the Forsaken. For, like, history and stuff… 

Just. Fuck. 

If it’s not one thing its another. 

And I can’t. I can’t just let some random person peruse my diary. Journal. Thing. 

But I couldn’t just say no either. So I asked that for a day or two to sort the pages between what I recorded and personal thoughts and feeling and the like. Thank fucking God that Greymane agreed. 

I feel like a fucking piece of shit. 

I hate that I’m lying to him. To everyone really. And I know, _I know_ it’s going to come back and bite me in the ass. I’ll face the consequences, whatever they may be, but… I guess what I’m really afraid of is… What if they don’t believe me? 

What if they think that I’m a spy for the Legion? It’s not impossible, the Twilight Hammer has supporters of all races, how hard would it have been to stage an ‘accident’ where one of their moles has ‘amnesia’ and is accepted by the reclusive nation of Gilneas. Not terribly hard I imagine. 

But 

I need a plan. Just in case. 

Okay so 

Plan for Protecting the Future:

Step 1: Find someone(s) I can trust with my true identity and the contents of my journal 

Possible candidates: Prophet Velen 

Because, let’s face it, he has seen the future or possible futures (idk how this works okay) and is also an off-worlder, if anyone would understand it would be him. 

~ 

Step Two: Make contact with said Trusted Individual, hope it doesn’t end in disaster. 

Possible outcomes: 

A: He believes be and I give him my original journal with everything I can remember, updating as I remember things. 

B: He doesn’t believe me and either kills me outright to protect his people or captures me and brings be in front of the Alliance leaders who then decide my fate… 

Goodie. 

~ 

Step Three, if Steps 1 and 2 end favorably: Return to Teldrassil with another copy of my journal with enough details that *hopefully* convince High Priestess and Shand’do and Greymane that I am _not_ a demon, but an (refugee? Informant? Good Samaritan?) ally. 

Possible Outcomes: 

A: They believe me, which gives them time to bolster their defenses and makes plans of attack, quietly of course. 

B: They’re skeptical, but weirder things have happened. 

C: Hostility 

D: Death. For me at least. 

Note to self: Leave a note for the Prophet just in case of D. 

~ 

I’ll need to get some supplies then… 

Supply list: 

Three extra blank journals (at the very least) 

A will (morbid Rae) 

A bug-out bag (I want to trust my leaders but I have no idea how they’d react. Better bolt if I have the chance and live to fight another day, than die) 

Alright. 

Let’s get started. 

Journals first and then deal with the transcriber. 

Wish me luck.


	33. Vigilance Arc: The Road Goes Ever On and On

**Home is Behind**

**Entry 5 of my Adventures in Teldrassil, Day 114, or 04/05/XXXX**

Small update. Since the first half of my journal is still missing somewhere in Gilneas, I’ve been using loose-leaf paper fashioned into a MacGyver-style, half-assed journal in an attempt to keep the pages together. So far so good but only up to a point. I can’t carry around loose-leaf papers with my very personal and very telling writing on it. 

That’s where the other journal’s come in. 

One will be my True Journal™, where I will write down everything that I remember regarding the future and any plans that I make. Maybe even contingency plans. But along with this entry and all my other entries I’ll be hiding it Shadowglen, somewhere in the mountains probably. Maybe a tree hollow if I can find one. This is until I can speak with Prophet Velen and then, hopefully, move it to the Exodar under his care. Hopefully. 

The second journal will be the Journal of Misdirection™, if anyone finds it, yes they’ll know I’m not from Azeroth but I also have no “idea what the fuck is going on”. I’ll be hiding that in the room I’m staying at in the inn, not the best place but it can’t be helped. At least until we’re given more “permanent” accommodations. I’m writing it out right now. 

The third journal I’m leaving blank. Maybe. Either blank or I’m going to make up some BS code that looks like it could mean something but really doesn’t. IDK. I’ll probably leave it as a backup. Better yet I’ll leave it with my True Journal™ and with the Bug-Out bag that I’ll leave in the same place. Just in case… Just in case… 

Ahhhhhhh I just!!! Wish that the summit would get done and over with! I NEED to speak with the Prophet and I can’t do that until Varian stops being so butt-hurt about everything. It wouldn’t take me long either, just an hours flight across the straight to Azuremyst… I could do it in an afternoon really… 

There and back… 

Before anyone knows I’m gone… 

No. No. That’s a terrible idea, if I get caught… Oh God if I get caught… But the possibilities… 

O’ros would know though. Maybe home is… I I’m afraid. There I said it. Because why would I be here otherwise, if something didn’t happen to Earth. Did the Legion come? Is Earth gone God please I can’t it can’t 

Now I’ve gone and done it. Now I gotta know. Consequences be damned. I need to know if my home is gone.


	34. Vigilance Arc: It's Our Time to Break the Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day holy shit who am I amiright lololol  
> Ah  
> Anyways  
> Ill be writing some companion pieces because I'm like that, and I really like the idea of exploring how others perceive Rae and whatnot

**All Hail the Underdogs**

****Entry 6 of my Adventures in Teldrassil and the Exodar, Day 115, or 04/06/XXXX** **

****

That was dicey there for a minute, I swear to God I thought Velen was gonna lay a smack down on my ass when he thought I was a demon stupid stupid mouth. No brain to mouth filter I swear. Need to work on that but! Velen agreed to keep my True Journal ™ safe as well as the loose-leaf journal that I made thank God because I can’t keep carting that around with me 

The Prophet and I decided that I’ll just send letters, but not wait for a reply or anything, just in case. So I’ll only be sending him what I remember when I remember it, whatever ‘it’ is. Does that make any sense? Eh 

This is the last update I’m doing for this journal, after I’ll be writing in my Misdirection Journal ™ so there will be lots of playing stupid, and maybe referenced to Wrath so that, ‘Yeah I know about Azeroth and I’ve played wait this world is a game to you wtf’ but mostly it’ll be me being ‘Holy shit dragon, holy shit elementals, holy shit Twilight Hammer's cunts that sort of a thing you feel. 

I… I remembered though… When I saw O’ros it was like a dream. Or a dream of a dream. This horrible déjà vu that I had to watch in slow motion as O’ros just… died... Rakeesh, the Butcher, invaded The Exodar and kills O’ros and Velen had-- had something Heart. Light’s Heart. I think. Nobbel. I remember Nobbel doing a video during the Legion beta. That’s where I saw it from. There was something else, something much worse that had happened. I may need to stare at O’ros some more to remember it, but, for now, I think I’ll leave off here. 

I’ve given Prophet Velen permission to read through what I have written so *shrug* I’ll see what he makes of it when I come ‘round to visit him, hopefully having written to him beforehand you know 

Heh, you know, I kinda can’t wait to go out and explore Azeroth, I mean I’ve watched my Da play ever since I was like seven? Eight years old? And I remember wanting to go to Azeroth so, so bad! And now that I’m here? Wow, just holy cow


	35. Vigilance Arc: Howdey Do Fellow Kids

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter comes after the companion piece: The Kids Are Not Alright Part 3 of the Defenders of Azeroth Series  
> Link here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13375509

**Alternatively, ‘Knock Knock Get the Door It’s Social Anxiety’**

**Entry 7 of my Adventures in Teldrassil, Day 116, 4/07/XXXX**

You know, I’ve forgotten how much energy it takes for me to interact with other people, it’s kind of mind-blowing? I’ve also forgotten how fucking annoying people can be, especially a bunch of overly enthusiastically-curious 20-something-year-olds that don’t seem to get that I really don’t want to talk about what happened in Gilneas. 

And that I’d like it if you wouldn’t stand chest to chest with me, so you know, personal space seems to be an issue too? I’m a New Englander okay, when meeting someone new politeness dictates that you should keep one arms length away; the closer you get to someone personally, the closer you will *probably* be able to get to them physically. Simple. 

Except that no one told them that. 

Hmm… New project: Do all NE’s invade personal space bubbles*? What is the PBS* size of a NE when they’re young? Middle aged? Elderly? Does the sudden intrusion stop? Is it a cultural thing? Do the kids realize that not everyone is Comfortable™ having their PSB* suddenly disrupted? 

Oh God now I’m calling my group-mates kids, I’ve become attached. My life is ruined… Shit, that means I can’t use them for my experiment. Goddammit, I’m out eight candidates alre 


	36. Vigilance Arc: Howdey Do Fellow Kids prt 2

**Alternatively, ‘Leave Me Alone Punks’**

**Entry 7, Part 2 of my Adventures in Teldrassil, Day 116, 4/07/XXXX**

I… managed to make a friend. Several actually. Miraculously. Somehow. Honestly I’m not sure how that happened. Incidentally, I’m now with my new ‘friends’ somewhere above Darnassus. Don’t ask me where, I have no idea. All I know is that there is no ‘conceivable’ way for our teachers to find us, unless they know exactly where to look. 

Apparently playing hooky is a thing no matter where you end up, which is kinda nice, considering I’ve never played hooky in my life except that one time I did but didn’t leave the classroom. Anyways… 

It’s really nice where we are right now, we’re hanging out in one of the larger hollowed out branches (there are several, a few of them empty), it’s become tradition among the younger generations of druids to find a big ol’ branch and make a clubhouse out of it basically. Fill it up with games and blankets and other shit like that and when the class “graduates” they turn it into homes for birds and squirrels and the like. 

A room was already made for me, there’s nothing in it, but honestly the gesture alone is starting to melt my cold dead heart lol. Two of the girls… I haven’t gotten their names yet, made the room. The only boys said that they’d bring me some blankets, their mom is a weaver and a really fast one at that, I should have a few blankets with in a day or two. 

So right, there’s six girls, not including myself and two guys. They guys are twins, Fadriel and Farenel (I’m getting some Fred and George vibes from these two), Fadriel usually keeps his hair down, while Farenel keeps his hair in a long ponytail. Other than that the two are indistinguishable. 

There’s Selileath and Haanalla, sisters but not twins. Selileath is the classic stern older sister, white hair in a braid. Very prim and proper like. Hana is just, the sweetest summer child, too good too pure for this world. 

Nathehaa is… kinda smirky? Confident. Yeah, she holds herself high, not out of arrogance but… She knows her self worth. I’ve also found that the word ‘Optimism’ might as well be her middle name. She was the one to pull me out of my journal-ing and just… declared herself my friend? She then declared that the rest of our group mates were my friends too and no one contradicted her? It was a coup, one that I’m pretty okay with… I’ve missed having friends… Jena would piss herself laughing if she could see me now… 

Faheana is soft spoken but intelligent and wise. Her mom is a part of the Sisterhood and her dad is a potter. He’s the reason we have so many wakodo pots up here, but they hold everything just fine so I can’t complain. 

A’laellas is also soft spoken but more on the shy side of the spectrum, rather than Faheana’s ‘I-don’t-have-anything-to-add-to-the-conversation-so-I-won’t’. She’s also very intelligent, compassionate as well. She really wants to see peace on Azeroth in her lifetime. Ambitious. I support that. 

Last, but certainly not least is Thelynne. Reminds me of my cousin Alexa, laidback, go with the flow type, both of them have a pretty chill personality. They’re cool cats, a real homeskillet, if Thelynne and Obama met the world would implode with how cool they are. 

Fadreil’s wondering what’s so funny and Nathehaa’s trying to get me to spill the beans. G2g hang out with my new friends. 

This is nice :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay friends :)


	37. Wandering Arc: 'How to Drive Oneself Insane' feat. Rae Whitman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while, hasn't it

**Why Do I Do This?!**

**Entry 8 of My Adventures in Teldrassil, Day 118, 4/09/XXXX**

So this is… uncomfortable… I mean, I’m grateful that Shand’do Stormrage offered Shand’do and I a place in the Cenarion Circle and I’m actually learning actual real druid shit and that’s just??? The coolest shit??? Ever??? It’s magic and Earth doesn’t have that (debatable, Note to self: explore this idea further at a later date, maybe ask Velen?)??? 

Like I’m learning a lot, a lot, but at kinda a break-neck speed? And I’m doing really well?? Like, uncomfortably well and now that _not_ learning this or that spell won’t end up with me dying I’m… uncomfortable. I don’t need to learn this quickly and it makes me anxious. Very anxious. Like I’m going to be shipped off to Lor’danel as any given moment and I don’t want to go but… but at the same time I feel… restless. I need to go. I need to move. I need to prove that I’m not a threat, that I can help, that I want to help. An itchy trigger finger, almost. 

And Shand’do won’t say what she and Shand’do Stormrage spoke of, but I can’t get over the feeling that he knows something’s up. 

Maybe I’m just being paranoid. 

And therein lies the conundrum. Preferably I’d like to approach both Shand’do Stormrage and High Priestess Whisperwind about this but ~~Genn~~ Greymane is always with them, I would have to wait until the Summit, whenever it is, and speak to them after Greymane leaves. On the other hand I could approach them now and spill my guts to them but who the hell knows how they’ll react! I mean, Greymane will hate me, no doubt about that, but for Stormrage and Whisperwind, well, they’re the wild cards. Ten thousand plus years, The War of the Ancients. They both have seen some pretty nasty shit, and Night Elves, as cool as they are, are xenophobes as well as ‘intolerant’ of mages. See: Highborn and Blood elves as examples. There’s no easy solution to this, there won’t be. I’ll just have to own up to my shit. I can’t… I can’t let the fear stop me though. 

Okay, review time, what do we know about Earth and Azeroth: 

Earth is, more or less, magicaless. That does not, however, explain how I was zapped _into a goddamn video game_. Conclusion: Magic does exist, but isn’t readily available to the average Joe. Plausible and completely rational. 

What could have caused my zapping into a video game? God? Aliens? Someone on Azeroth? If so who? There are very few people who are considered sorcerers/sorceress, the few that I can think of would be Khadgar, Jaina, Sunstrider (I pretty sure he’s dead though, but, so is the entire Forsaken), Medivh (still hanging out in Karazhan??? Might have fucked off to the afterlife), Blue-Dragon-Aspect-that-has-blue-fucking-hair-and-looks-human, and maybe that girl-who-isn’t-a-girl-but-is-actually-the-avatar-of-the-fucking-Sunwell (if she hasn’t kicked the bucket that is); all entirely plausible, but Khadgar is good, so is Jaina, Medivh (after Sargeras fucked off), Blue Aspect and Sunwell-girl. None of them, I feel, would intentionally open/do anything that would bring innocent people into this clusterfuck SO! Perhaps this was an accident, a mage somewhere fucking with something beyond their comprehension, in which case I will be really fucking pissed off. Sunstrider would probably do it for the shits-and-giggles, but he’s dead so there goes that lead. Gul’dan, but he isn’t a mage… but Kil'jaeden is… 

Note to self: Ask Velen how far Kil’jaeden’s abilities, and his ideas on what level they are at now. 

Now Azeroth, very magical, just chocked full of magic! Filled to the point of bursting. Someone could have easily fucked up and hasn’t owned up to their shit. So am I the only anomaly? Velen seems to think so, judging by his reaction (I’m kinda glad that I thought to wear my tabard now tbh) but, I don’t know, I get the feeling that I’m not??? Which makes no sense except it’s a gut feeling and, nvm… 

I guess my question is ‘Why?’ 

I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to figure that out. 


	38. Wandering Arc: 'I tried carrying the weight of the world, But I only have two hands'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *peaks from behind the couch* Hey... Been awhile huh? Uh so special thanks to Quizicalgin here on Ao3, your support helped me get my butt in gear :)  
> So, uh, please feed me! I live off of comments!

**I Hate This, But I’m Doing It Anyways**

**Entry 9 of My Adventures in Teldrassil, Day 120, 4/11/XXXX**

I’m going to Lor’danel. I wasn’t asked and I wasn’t ordered, I just… Need to go. I was-- _am_ \-- suffocating under the idea. Shand’do was sad, she tried to hide it but I saw. I hurt her. Again. Shand’do Stormrage wasn’t surprised (or if he was he didn’t show it), I think he even anticipated it. Greymane and Crowley were the worst. Crowley half-jokingly called me a war hero. Greymane said that if I hadn’t helped with the fight, more of us would be dead, or worse. They were so happy and proud of me, proud that such a “young, defender of our people was volunteering to help our allies”. _Our people. Our allies._ They consider me Gilnean. I. Am. Gilnean. To them. 

I’m a fucking liar. 

I could have told them. Should have told them. I didn’t. Because… Because despite everything… 

It’s going to hurt when I lose them. Shand’do, Greymane, Crowley. Nathehaa and the rest of the Druid Squad™. Jack. 

I wish I could enjoy the flight over to Lor’danel, just me and the wind and the hippogriff. 

I hate that I'm so selfish.

I hate that I’m running away. 

I hate that I’m such a coward. 


End file.
